


Into the Fray

by HigherMagic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Bottom Dean, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Omega Dean, Slow Burn, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Torture, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-02-19 08:13:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 46
Words: 46,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2381168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HigherMagic/pseuds/HigherMagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had prided himself on making sure things usually worked out. He was good at hustling, he’d become a master at squeezing just those few extra dollars out of anyone, whether it was a guy at a bar or a customer in a restaurant on one of the few honest jobs he’d ever gotten.</p><p>But that wouldn’t do anymore. Sam was starting college in less than two years and Dean had enough student loans to bury a cruise liner in and he hadn’t even finished his degree yet and wouldn’t for some time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I moved this over from my Tumblr ficlets for easier reading - each chapter follows a set of prompts which I will include as individual chapter notes. I've uploaded them in the order that they progress within the 'verse, but in future prompts may take the story into the past or through various other timejumps.
> 
> This Chapter: "Have you written about how Dean and gangstercas met? If you have perhaps I've missed it, but if you haven't I've been wondering about that for a while."

Dean had prided himself on making sure things usually worked out.

Like hustling bars in a pool game, taking on the biggest toughest son of a bitch in the hopes of distracting people enough to slip away, or pumping out just enough of his pheromones to confuse and derail any possible violence. He was good at it, he’d become a  _master_ at squeezing just those few extra dollars out of anyone, whether it was a guy at a bar or a customer in a restaurant on one of the few honest jobs he’d ever gotten.

But that wouldn’t do anymore. Sam was starting college in less than two years and Dean had enough student loans to bury a cruise liner in and he hadn’t even finished his degree yet and wouldn’t for some time.

 

 

He should never have listened to Victor. Victor was a good guy, sure, and he’d arrested Dean and kept him in an overnight holding cell enough times that they’d gotten on friendly enough terms, but the guy had a kind of tunnel vision when it came to Omegas. Specifically borderline-homeless Omegas with an underage Alpha to take care of.

Victor had set up this meeting. Dean honestly didn’t know what to do with himself. Three beers in and there was no stopping the scared, nervous fidgeting of his hands.

Living on the lower-budget side of town, he’d heard rumors. There was a gang in this city, a powerful one with fingers in every pie. Never in his life had Dean thought he would end up sharing a booth with its leader.

His name was Castiel Novak, and he had a gaze that could freeze someone solid. Dean could practically  _taste_ the Alpha on him, and he knew that if he’d ever met this man randomly at a bar that he would be one of the people Dean didn’t even  _think_ about fucking with.

Castiel cocked his head to one side, one of the first movements he’d actually made. He reached forward and slid his beer towards his body, but didn’t drink. “What is it that you think I can do for you?” he asked, lightly, as though genuinely interested.

Dean cleared his throat, and swallowed. “Victor said you can help out…people like me,” he said, the words almost refusing to come out because his pride had for so long been the only thing keeping him from asking. “I need money.”

"Ah." Castiel smiled, leaning back in the booth. Everything about this man seemed sharp, even when he looked relaxed, like a cat curled up in the shadows with both eyes wide open.

Dean shook his head, blowing out a breath. “Nevermind,” he said, tilting his beer back to swallow it before setting it down with a hollow ‘clink’. “I’ll see myself out.”

"What are you getting your degree in, Dean?" Castiel asked, as though the Omega hadn’t been leaving.

Dean paused, refusing to settle himself back in the booth. “Bio-Chem,” he replied.

Castiel blinked, both eyebrows raising, and nodded down at his beer. “You must be very intelligent,” he said with a low hum. “That’s good. That’s very good. Did you have a particular career in mind, once you’d finished?”

Dean snorted, turning back so he was sitting in the booth more fully. “Not really gonna matter when I’m thrown out for not payin’ the school fees.”

Castiel waved a hand. “Irrelevant, Dean. I’ve already decided I’m going to help you. Now, tell me,” he lifted his eyes, slate grey in the low lighting, “what do you want to do with your life?”

"Ideally? Medicine." He shrugged one shoulder. "I want to be a heart surgeon." 

At that, Castiel smiled. It was a wide, genuine one, and Dean got the impression that Castiel didn’t smile too often. He showed too much teeth.

"That is very admirable, Dean," he said, finally lifting his drink to his lips and finishing it off with one long swallow. "I will be in touch."

Castiel stood, and Dean stood with him though he wasn’t quite sure why. The Alpha smiled again, his eyes raking down all of Dean’s mussed, dirty self, before he reached out. His fingers tapped, twice, lightly, against Dean’s jaw before they fell away.

"I won’t keep you waiting long," he promised, before he threw a crisp twenty-dollar bill onto the table for their drinks and took his leave of the bar. 


	2. Establishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hi so I know you kinda have a plan as to how the gangster verse is gonna go so if this doesn't fit in anywhere that's totally fine, but I was thinking about like how dean interacts with other members of cas' gang. And like maybe most of them are nice but there's one that keeps bugging him and cas either finds out or see's it happening or something? And goes all protective alpha on him?"

It had been six months and Dean might be just a little over his head.

Granted, his experience with anything remotely related to the mafia consisted solely of TV shows and religious marathons of  _The Godfather_ , but still it seemed like there should have been  _some_ similarities between reality and fiction.

For fuck’s sake, he was Omega! They were by definition weak, dumb bitches who couldn’t even think straight without an Alpha telling them what to do or say or how to behave. At least, that was what everyone seemed to think back home. In that respect, California was remarkably refreshing. For the first time since his father had died Dean felt like maybe he could actually be his own damn person.

Then he’d gotten a little too far down the rabbit hole and ended up  _here_.

 

Castiel treated him fairly, he supposed. Way nicer than Dean had expected, truthfully, when one of the most powerful men in the Western world came up to him and offered to pay off his student debts in return for a few small favors. But Castiel was a decent guy as far as a mafia boss could be a decent guy.

Hell, even his guys were decent for the most part. Castiel ran a tight ship, worthy of respect and grace from all sides. Castiel was feared - Castiel was loved, and respected, and definitely feared. And apparently that extended to Dean.

He’d expected slurs. He’d expected derisive stares and muttered words about how he was selling his ass for the boss’ protection. He got none of that.

And when it  _did_  happen, well…

"Did I not tell everyone here that Dean was going to be directly under my protection, and any insult to him was an insult to me?"

Dean hardly dared raise his eyes to the gathered Alphas. It didn’t matter anyway - none of them were looking at him, but at Castiel where he sat at his desk. Dean was sat next to him, knuckles white on the arms of the chair and gaze pointedly on the shiny silver pistol sitting on the desk.

The silence stretched on until Castiel growled softly, and picked the pistol up and aimed it at the closest Alpha’s chest. The man barely flinched, and Castiel did not fire, but set it back down after a long moment.

"I believed I asked a question," he said to the room at large.

Balthazar, Castiel’s second, shifted his weight. “Yes, you did, Sir,” he said after a long, obnoxious clearing of his throat.

Castiel nodded to him, smiling. “At least someone here understands the rules.” His eyes landed to Dean, briefly. “If I hear any other complaints, or see any evidence of mistreatment amongst  _any_ of my people, your heads will roll, gentlemen.” He paused. “The only reason I’m not tasting your blood is because Dean refused to name names.”

Dean could feel their eyes on him, burning hot, piercing.

"You’re all dismissed, gentlemen," Castiel said with a wave of his hand, and once the room had cleared Castiel turned to Dean and caught his chin in his powerful, harsh grip. "If this happens again, you come straight to me," he said, his voice hard and leaving no room for argument. "I will not tolerate your mistreatment, Dean."

Dean swallowed hard. “Understood, Alpha,” he murmured.

"Good." At that, Castiel let him go and sat back, sliding the pistol back into his drawer. "That’ll be all, then."

Dean’s heart was hammering when he all but fled the room and back to his suite. Castiel was a decent guy, but fuck if he wasn’t scary as Hell sometimes.


	3. Arguement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I am all about your gangster!Cas au. It's refreshing to see a mafia au where love doesn't make everyone less violent/more "moral" for the sake of romance. I'm excited to see how Dean and Cas handle their first real disagreement."

"Oh, Dean, you’re here. Good."

The Omega frowned, halting at the outside entrance to his suite. Castiel approached him and up close Dean could see how harried he looked, the usual put-together steel facade cracking, just a little. Under his eyes there were dark circles and his hair looked even worse than it usually did, teased and mussed by his hands.

"What’s up, Cas?" he asked, moving his rucksack higher up onto his shoulder. "I gotta get to class."

"Yes." The Alpha cleared his throat, straightening. "About that. I can’t allow you to leave the house today, Dean."

 

“ _What_?” Dean stepped away from the door, letting it slam shut as he turned to the Alpha. “What the fuck does that mean?”

"There is going to be an exchange, close to the waterfront this afternoon, near the University." An exchange. Dean fought the urge to shake his head or roll his eyes; that, he’d come quickly to learn, meant either an execution or a high-profile trade in which someone (the other guy) was going to die. "It’s too dangerous for you to go outside today."

"I have a midterm I gotta take," Dean bit out, eyes narrowing as Castiel’s clenched jaw and stiff shoulders. It looked like Castiel was hanging onto his control by a thread at best. "And Sam’s doin’ a tour of Stanford later. I’m not stayin’ in."

“ _Dean_  -.”

"You promised me I wouldn’t have to give up my freedom," Dean went on, ignoring Castiel’s warning growl. "You said I’d be able to come and go as I pleased, and you wouldn’t ever try and keep me locked up here. You suddenly goin’ back on your word,  _Cas_?”

"It’s for your own  _good_.”

Dean’s upper lip curled back and he rolled his eyes, turning back towards the door. “Fuck that,” he hissed. “Fuck you and every Alpha in the world who thinks that way. Now you’ve already made me late.”

He yanked the door open and left, and Castiel let him go.

Later there was a mass hysteria from the media. The school had been completely shut down, the student evacuated. The shooting hadn’t been as near to the University as it could have been.

Castiel was waiting for Dean when he came home.

"How do you think you did on the test?"

Dean eyed the Alpha carefully. He was sitting in one of the plush leather chairs in Dean’s main room, which he never did because it put him in the position of lesser power.

Dean shrugged his jacket off and let the rucksack fall to the floor. “I dunno,” he said with a shrug. “I’m confident in the pass, I guess.”

Castiel hummed.

When Dean turned around, the Alpha was standing, his eyes the same steel grey as the slide of his gun. “I relocated the exchange,” he said, rather unnecessarily in Dean’s opinion because he knew if it had happened in the arranged spot Dean would probably still be locked down at school. “Three of my men died because we didn’t have adequate time to recon, to prepare.”

Oh, shit.

"I…I’m sorry, Cas."

Castiel’s jaw clenched, bulging at the corner, and he took a deep breath in through his nose, and let it out, before speaking again. “You are allowed your freedom,” he said, slowly, measured, “but your obedience is non-negotiable, Dean, and I will have it from you.”

Castiel approached him slowly, and Dean swallowed, unconsciously turning his head to the side in a slight gesture to expose his neck.

"You  _will_ obey me,” Castiel growled, showing his teeth. “Not because I am Alpha, not even because I am your employer. You  _will_ obey me because your safety has always been and will always be one of my primary concerns, and my  _protection_ requires it.”

They stayed like that, for so long that Dean thought Castiel might actually bite him, just to assert his dominance in the way their species used to. But then, the moment broke, and Castiel moved away without another look back to Dean’s exposed neck.

"I’m glad you did well on your test, Dean. I had every confidence in you."

Then, he was gone, and with him went all the tension holding Dean upright. He collapsed into the nearest chair, his heart hammering and breathing unsteady for the display of dominance Castiel had just shown him.

"Fuck," he whispered, running his hands over his face, and up through his hair. " _Fuck_.”

 


	4. Provide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "prompt for omega!dean wednesday: omega!collegestudent!dean is protected by alpha!gangboss!cas, when dean accidentally walks into a gang fight. dean becomes lcas' new favorite person and cas just like endlessly sends dean diamond encrusted dildos and (insert expensive rock here) butt plugs and one day cas comes over to hand deliver dean something and interrupts dean trying out a gift for the first time. lots of dirty talk would be nice"

"I see you’re enjoying the gifts I got you."

Dean’s head snapped up, a deep and pretty flush stealing over the Omega’s cheeks as he hurriedly pulled the sheets of his lap. The thin, white sheets were stained with his slick and did little to hide his modesty, and Castiel smirked, folding his arms over his chest and propping himself up against the doorframe as he watched the flushed Omega try to appear at least a little modest.

 

"I - yes," Dean said after a moment, clearing his throat. Castiel could still hear the faint buzzing of the toy - a personal favorite of his, really. It was a thick, curved dildo designed specifically for Omega’s, to catch on their rims to simulate the tug of a knot while stimulating their prostate. The one he had chosen for Dean had pretty gems all around the handle - it was expensive enough that even his second in command had raised an eyebrow when he’d commissioned the piece.

He liked the fact that Dean was using that one, specifically.

"I’ve brought you something else," Castiel said, his head cocked to one side, eyebrow raised in challenge. He straightened out and pulled out a long, thin black box from one of his coat’s inner pockets.

"Thank you," Dean said, blushing deeper. The room stank of his slick and every time he moved it stirred the scents up again, spicy and very, very enticing. 

The Omega’s eyes kept darting to one of the side tables, as though he expected Castiel to simply leave it and be on his merry way. Truthfully, that had been Castiel’s intention, but now that he could smell Dean, and he knew the pretty Omega would do pretty much anything for him, he wondered how far he could push this weird pseudo-relationship they had.

It wasn’t that he had mated Dean, or that the boy  _belonged_ to him, but every Alpha and Beta in this city knew that anyone who touched Dean would get a bullet to the brain, no questions asked.

His grin widened, a flare of red spreading from his pupil. “Well?” he asked, teasing. “Come and get it.”

"I -." Dean bit his lip, looking down at his lap. The sheets were doing nothing to hide his erection, and he knew as soon as he stood up the toy would slide out of him.

But one does not simply refuse Castiel Novak.

He gingerly pushed himself to his feet, pulling the toy from his slick ass with a whimper of loss, and turned it off. The bright blue silicon stood out starkly against the mattress as he pulled the sheets around his body, covering his lower half and most of his belly and chest.

Castiel raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He held out the box, shaking it a little as though taunting a dog with a new treat.

Dean’s breathing was shaky, his eyes dark and bleeding gold as he made his way slowly over to the Alpha. He reached out to take the box but Castiel quickly pulled it out of reach, finally setting it down to one side.

"Strip," he ordered.

The Omega looked down at himself, the red flush spreading down his neck as he swallowed. He obeyed with a small, embarrassed sound, shifting his weight as he let the sheet pool around his ankles, baring his body to Castiel’s hungry, predatory gaze.

"Look at you," the Alpha murmured, voice low and awed. Dean had filled out under his service, developed strong muscles in his shoulders from hauling cargo and moving product for Castiel, and his legs were muscled and strong from the runs and errands Castiel sent him on: Alpha Novak’s little messenger boy, he was called. "You’ve turned into quite the young man, Dean."

The Omega’s gold eyes flashed up. No one had called him a ‘man’ in Castiel’s group; it was always  _boy_ or  _bitch_. 

Castiel stepped up to him, and slowly crouched down, his eyes fixed on Dean’s the whole way. Dean sucked in a breath, eyes widening before he realized Castiel was merely retrieving his sheet, pulling it back up to give back to the trembling, naked Omega.

He forced himself not to make a sound of complaint.

"I made this new one specially for you," Castiel said, once Dean had covered himself against as best he could. His eyes kept raking up and down Dean’s body, as though the sheet wasn’t even there. "I was told that it would make an Omega feel…absolutely satisfied."

Dean sucked in a breath, fingers tightening in the sheet. He knew was Castiel was talking about - an actual knotting dildo, one that would simulate the real stretch and pull of an actual Alpha mate. Dean’s whole body heated, new slick leaking from him at just the thought of it.

A smirk flitted across Castiel’s face, and he reached out, just briefly, to brush the knuckles of his hand across Dean’s jaw. “Let me know what you think of it,” he said, enough Alpha Voice in his tone that Dean nodded immediately. “I want you satisfied under my care, Dean. Always.”

"Understood, Alpha," Dean replied, voice hoarse.

"Good. And maybe, with enough practice, you’ll be ready enough for the real thing."

Castiel’s eyes were gleaming, and even if Dean wanted to say anything, his mouth was so dry that he couldn’t make a sound. He settled for a quick, frantic nod; one that made Castiel’s smile widen and show his teeth.


	5. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "hey rowan! would you mind continuing the alpha!mobboss!cas and omega!dean thing you wrote? maybe someone tries to claim Dean (with r w/o his consent) and Cas basically rips him apart...or something, as long as it is vaguely violent"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings in this chapter for past mention of noncon between Dean and another Alpha during his heat, as well as murder on Castiel's part

Dean shifts in his seat, trying his best to not let his nerves show. Four years into his service with Castiel, and this is the first time he’s ever been invited for anything longer than a brief meeting or a rundown of the next mission or supply run.

This is odd. New.

It’s  _dinner_.

 

Castiel’s dining room is the kind of opulence one would expect from someone who came into so much money he literally has nothing better to do with it than buy expensive art purely for the sake of having it. Hell, Dean should have known better from the ridiculous sex toys he receives almost every week - one of those pawned at the right place could pay off his student loans easily.

The table itself is small and intimate, only room for six people if they squeezed together, but it’s just Dean and Castiel in the room for now, and the occasional scurrying servant coming in to refill Dean’s wine glass or bring out the next course.

Dean’s unsure what is expected of him. He knows Castiel has essentially put a mark on him, telling everyone else that Dean is, for all intents and purposes, Castiel’s mate, but that’s as far as it has ever gone. Castiel buys Dean toys, and offers suppressants every time Dean has an upcoming Heat (that Dean always refuses because he kind of likes the raw desire he can see in the Alpha’s eyes whenever the subject of Dean’s Heat comes up) and so far their relationship has remained purely business, the odd tension stuck on the backburner for now.

But Dean’s neck feel prickly and his shoulders are tense. Castiel has marked him, yes, but not everyone respects that. He’s had offers. He’s had more than that - he’s not sure what kind of man Castiel is when it comes to lovers; if he’s the kind of person that would respect a ‘No’ from Dean.

After what feels like forever, when the dessert has been cleared away, Castiel finally sets his wineglass down with a soft sigh. The air feels like it’s been supercharged. Dean goes tense all over again.

"Is there something you’d like to tell me, Dean?" Castiel asks after a moment. His eyes aren’t on the Omega, but rather his empty glass, as though he can find the meaning to life in the clinging red drops on the side.

Dean licks his lips, his fingers flexing on the armrests of the chair. “I dont’ - I don’t think so, Sir?”

Castiel’s jaw bunches at the corner, his teeth grinding together so hard Dean can hear them.

"Alpha," Dean says quickly after that, correcting himself. He’s always addressed Castiel as such, after all. It earns him Castiel’s gaze, the Alpha’s bright eyes spearing him where he sits. Dean licks his lips again, lowers his eyes, forces himself to remain still. "Are you mad at me?"

Castiel’s knuckles go white around his glass, so suddenly and so tightly Dean worries it will break.

"Balthazar!" he barks, not looking away from Dean as Castiel’s second appears at his side. "Bring him in."

Dean frowns, but the pair remain silent as Balthazar disappears between the doors at the other end of the room, away from Castiel. When they open again, three men are dragging the beaten, bloody body of an Alpha between them.

Dean sucks in a breath, his insides going cold.

"This is him, isn’t it?" Castiel’s voice is cold, a steel band around Dean’s throat. "The man who raped you."

Dean can’t speak. It had been years ago, when he was new in Castiel’s work force and Castiel had not been explicitly clear that he was not to be touched. Dean had never told Castiel about this Alpha, about the man who had found him during one of his first Heats in his room and held him down easily no matter how much he struggled or fought.

"Alpha," Dean whispers, unable to draw his eyes away from the hunched body in front of them. Then, he flinches, hand instinctively darting away as Castiel sets a pistol on the table and slides it pointedly over to Dean.

"The kill is yours, if you want it," Castiel says. His eyes aren’t even on the bloody Alpha, but on Dean, as sharp and assessing as they always are. "I won’t take away your chance for justice."

Dean swallows, and shakes his head. “I’m not a murderer,” he says, though it’s a weak protest at best. He can’t look away from Castiel’s eyes.

Whatever the Alpha must see there, it makes him smile. “Would you rather I do it?” he asks, finally letting go of his glass and pulling the pistol back, and weapon falling into his hands easily, happily like an old friend. “Would you like knowing it was me who killed the  _thing_ that had touched you without your permission?”

Dean shakes his head. Castiel is playing with him, these complicated mind games me loves so well. Dean can’t keep up, his heart is hammering but his stomach feels cold and he might actually be sick. He’d never thought he’d have to see that Alpha again. His fingers itch, and his mouth feels dry.

Strangely, the thought of Castiel dominating and killing that Alpha doesn’t repulse him nearly as much as it should.

Castiel stands, and Dean doesn’t even flinch as the gun goes off, and the body of the Alpha slumps to the floor.

He cocks his head to one side, letting the gun rest again with a dispassionate sigh. “Clean up the mess,” he says, sitting back down, and as soon as the room is cleared he turns his attention back to Dean. “I’m angry that you didn’t tell me.”

Dean nods.

"You are meant to feel safe with me, Dean - safe and satisfied. Those were my conditions."

Dean nods again, wetting his lips. “I understand, Alpha.”

"Good." Castiel gives a short, sharp nod, clearly satisfied. He leans over to pick up the larger jug of wine. "Would you like some more?" Dean nods, eagerly holding out his glass for a refill, and downs it in two long swallows, which makes Castiel chuckle. "Don’t worry, Dean," he says. "I’ll make sure nothing like this ever has to happen again."

Of that, Dean has absolutely no doubt.


	6. Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Plz more gangster!cas and omega!dean. That verse is killing me with its awesomeness"

"You ever shot a gun before?"

"I -." Dean shifts his weight, nervously palming the unloaded 1911 pistol in his hand. "My dad took me to a shooting range once, before I presented." He doesn’t finish the unspoken sentence; Never after. Omegas aren’t violent - they don’t shoot, they don’t fight, they don’t kill. _  
_

Castiel shook his head with a sigh. “Very well.” He came up to Dean and carefully corrected the Omega’s grip on the gun, cupping his hands around Dean’s to make sure he had his thumb position correct, and that his grip was far enough down that the slide wouldn’t catch him.

Dean swallowed, his fingers flexing nervously under Castiel’s when the Alpha raised his eyes, searching Dean’s face for a long moment before letting go. “Alpha,” Dean said, starting after him even though he wasn’t positive what would come next.

Castiel’s eyes landed on him, sharp and grey. “Yes?”

"I - Do you think this is necessary?" Dean asked, wincing when Castiel merely cocked his head in answer. "I just mean, I’m only doin’ runs, right? Nothing…confrontational."

Castiel’s smile was sharp as he stepped back over, thumbing over Dean’s reddened cheek. “I had to kill a man that touched you because you didn’t have the stomach to do it yourself,” he said, his voice kind even though his words sent a prickle along Dean’s spine, like someone had slipped an ice cube down the back of his shirt. “So yes, I deem this very necessary. I won’t tolerate you feeling unsafe, Dean.”

Dean forced himself to swallow, and nod. “Understood, Alpha.”

"Good." Castiel turned away from him, going to the little black box from which he’d pulled the pistol, and slid several full magazines into place along the little table beside them. There were several unloaded guns and magazines already there for Dean to try later. "After this we will also try knives. I prefer knives. They’re much more…intimate." Dean shivered at the look Castiel sent him on the word. The Alpha smiled. "I think you’ll like them more too."

Castiel had yet to be wrong about something Dean liked, and the Omega nodded, lowering the gun and going over to the table of magazines. Castiel held one out to him, a swift tap against the pistol showing Dean where the release was. Once the gun was loaded, Dean pulled the slide back just enough that it snapped into place, and it felt so much heavier in his hand, weighted with promise.

Castiel smiled, somehow pleased at something he must have seen on Dean’s face. “Good,” he praised quietly, one hand running along Dean’s forearm as he flexed his fingers around the gun. “Now.”

He brought Dean’s attention to the targets they’d set up. They were a little over ten metres away, brightly lit, though Dean could barely see the finer detail around the targets. They were all vaguely human-shaped, colored in each little ring to give points. Behind the targets was a thick wall of wood for the bullets to land in another five metres past.

"Relax," Castiel murmured as Dean brought the gun up. His hands were shaking until Castiel’s settled over them, soothing. "This weapon is your friend, Dean - he wants to help you." Dean shivered as the Alpha pressed his body close to Dean’s, checking his stance, his sight, the way he held the gun. The touches were brief and sudden, nowhere close to a carress or even suggestive of one, but Dean’s whole body was blushing, shivery, anticipating. The Alpha’s low voice sent shards of heat down his spine. "He knows you can’t do it yourself, but he can."

Dean bit his lower lip to stop himself making a sound.

Castiel smiled. “In that respect,” he said, his hand flattening around Dean’s on the grip, steadying it for the Omega, “I suppose this gun is like me.” Dean swallowed. “You point, we kill.”

Castiel let go of him and Dean narrowed his eyes, trying his best to aim along the sight, and fired. The gun’s recoil startled him, made him lock his elbows, but at least the shot had been straight - the loud bang just failed to cover up the dull ‘thud’ of the bullet hitting wood.

"Again," Castiel demanded, so Dean lifted the pistol and fired, more confident, emboldened by the heat in the Alpha’s voice. "Again, Dean. Again."

He kept shooting until the magazine was empty, and when he lowered the gun it felt as though his body, strung-out and shaking, folded under the weight of it in his hands. The sudden rush was intense, made worse when Castiel moved away with a quiet hum.

"Let’s see how you did, hmm?" he asked, pulling down the target Dean had only absently been aiming for.

He draped it over the table, showing Dean the collection of holes around the chest. “Well, you hit almost every time, which is good. You see these here?” he asked, gesturing to the off-center group on the right. “You’re anticipating the recoil.”

Bright blue eyes speared Dean where he stood. “You shouldn’t,” he murmured, taking the pistol from Dean’s hands. “We won’t hurt you, Dean.”

Dean shivered again, licking his dry lips. “S’just instinct, Alpha,” he said with a shrug, his eyes lowered to the bullet wounds ripped through the paper. He’d done that.  _He’d_ done that - if that had been a man, he’d be dead.

Castiel smiled over at Dean, and a warm hand settled across the back of Dean’s neck, squeezing just light enough that Dean had to brace himself on the table to fight the urge to drop to his knees and present for his Alpha.

Then, the touch was gone and Castiel pulled the sheet away to reveal the other weapons. “Which should we try next, hmm?”

Dean looked them over, biting his lip, before his eyes fell on one. It was one he recognized, intricate detail along the handle unmistakable. Castiel’s gun.

He reached for it, and hesitated, before his hand wrapped around the warm metal. It hummed in his hand, and the weight of it felt right. He looked up to meet Castiel’s eyes and found the Alpha with an unreadable expression on his face.

"May I?" he asked, unsure if he’d crossed some kind of line.

Then, Castiel’s face split into a wide smile. “Of course, Dean,” he replied, his voice low, barely more than a growl. “I’d be honored.”


	7. Shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Rowan. I hate you. I have so many questions and feels about that damn prompt. Any chance of more gangster/mafia Alpha!cas and omega!dean!? I just love not so good bad ass cas!"  
> Can u please please please do some more gangboss cas??? Ur characterization of him and dean makes me hella horny no lie (also I would love you forever)"

"The Milton accounts are being transferred over this afternoon, and later there’s a charity function being held for the University. I assume you’re going to attend  _that_.”

Castiel smiles, leaning back in his chair as he grins over to his second, Balthazar. “It’s like I have a type,” he says, laughing down at his folded hands. “Yes, I plan to attend. Let Hester know, if you please - the usual arrangements.”

"What would you do without me, hmm?" Balthazar says, making a small note in his little pocket book he carries everywhere he goes.

They’re both stopped at a light, shy knock at the door. “Come in, Rachel,” Castiel calls, letting in his assistant.

"Forgive the intrusion," she says politely, a tight smile on her face. Even from here, Castiel can see the red lining the edge of her eyes, and immediately he is on high alert. Rachel is not an Alpha easily ruffled. "Dean Winchester is outside."

Castiel stands. “Send him in,” he says, and with a stern look to Balthazar the second Alpha nods and disappears through the door with Rachel. Almost a full minute later Dean comes in.

The scent of him makes the backs of Castiel’s eyes prickle, bleeding red. “What the Hell happened to you?” he asks, coming forward quickly to wrap a hand around Dean’s shoulder, keeping him steady.

The Omega is a mess; his hair is matted with sweat, sticky at the side with a patch of dark, fresh blood. There’s some around his mouth as well, and his hands. Carefully Castiel shoves him into the nearest share, growling as he kneels down and tries to find a source for Dean’s wound.

"It’s…not mine," the Omega slurs, tilting his head back and exposing his throat to Castiel’s searching hands. Immediately the Alpha stops, drawing back. Dean’s eyes are an almost solid gold, giving away how much he had reacted out of pure instinct, running to Castiel. "Some guys jumped me and - and I shot them. I need help."

"Did you kill them?" Castiel asks, frozen for a moment where he’s crouched between Dean’s legs, eyes wide.

Dean shakes his head. “At least one was still breathing. I don’t -.” He lifts his head, meets Castiel’s eyes, and immediately turns away again. “There were three.”

Castiel snarls. No wonder Rachel had reacted so strongly - Dean probably had to tell her what happened as well. The sight of a bleeding and needy Omega would be enough to enrage any Alpha.

"Where?"

Dean tells him.

"Balthazar!" he yells, standing, Dean flinching from the sudden loud noise. "I need a cleanup crew. Three men, shot and at least one might still be alive. Bring any living to me."

When the Alpha is gone, along with his team, Castiel pulls Dean up out of the chair and to the small, two-seater sofa in his office instead. Now that he knows Dean wasn’t wounded, he’s much less in a hurry to clean him up - he quite likes the look of Dean, bloodied and golden-eyed. He’d always known red was a good color for Dean.

He holds Dean close, uncaring for the blood getting smeared across his suit as Dean leans into him, forehead against his neck. “You did well, Dean,” Castiel says, voice low and soothing as the Omega starts to shake. The adrenaline is wearing off now, and Dean’s exhausted from sprinting damn near half the city to get to his Alpha safely and quickly. “You did the right thing. Had I been there, I’d have killed them myself.”

Dean licks his lips, nodding when Castiel’s blunt nails drag across his scalp, a soothing rumble falling from the Alpha’s throat.

"Do you have anywhere - should I go?" Dean asks. He knows Castiel is a busy man, and he should really shower, erase the evidence from his body. 

Castiel’s arms tighten around him and the Alpha shakes his head. “No, Dean. I’d like you to stay here with me.”

Okay. Okay. The Omega breathes out slowly, shifting his weight to a more comfortable position, wrapped up with Castiel on the couch that’s far too small for two fully grown men, but it’s warm and it’s close and Castiel’s scent is calming.

Dean closes his eyes as Castiel presses a soft kiss to his forehead, and finally lets himself relax.


	8. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "prompt for whenever you want: so like... in your last gangster!alpha!cas and omega!dean thing, cas said "you point, we kill" or something like that. i would /love/ to see dean actually test the theory, or to at least be stuck on it. thinking that if he told cas to kill someone, cas would. maybe he even brings this up? :D"

Throughout their time together, Castiel knows that Dean has always been very careful to keep their boundaries clear. Every evolution of their relationship has been purely on Castiel’s terms. It’s better this way - after all, Castiel could lose a lot more than Dean should they more too fast or in a way that is not careful.

The only people who really know the depth of their relationship is Dean and Castiel themselves. That, too, it for the best. Dean is a private person and Castiel is a careful one.

In fact, this is the first time that Dean has ever made explicit mention of his little brother, Sam, since they’d met.

 

Dean is always very careful not to show up to Castiel’s door unannounced. The only exception was when Dean had been jumped by three unknown Alphas (border Alphas, not belonging to any pack) and obeyed the dumb instinct to run into his Alpha’s protection. 

So it comes as somewhat a surprise when Dean marches into his office completely unannounced, a protesting Rachel on his heels and fire in his eyes. It’s molten anger, unforged and unused right now.

Castiel waves Rachel away, lifting his eyes when Dean marches up to his desk. The Omega is silent for a long time, looking Castiel up and down - almost like another Alpha sizing up his rival. Castiel has never seen that look on Dean before.

It’s an attractive one.

He cocks his head to one side, unwilling to break the silence first. Their eyes are locked, two dogs refusing to be the one to yield dominance first.

Dean swallows, squaring his shoulders, and looks down to Castiel’s right. It’s the drawer in which his pistol sits, waiting. Even after Castiel taught him to shoot, Dean doesn’t carry his own weapon inside the house. 

"You told me something," he says, carefully, looking back at the Alpha, "when - after dinner. You told me that if I ever needed anythin’, I could come to you." He swallows again, looks away, looks back. "Did you mean that?"

Castiel sits back in his chair, resting one elbow on the rest, jaw propped against the tips of his fingers as he considers Dean carefully. “Yes,” he replies, because he did, and he meant it. “Is something the matter?”

The Omega sighs, a hard breath out through his nose. “It’s Sam,” he says, jaw clenching, bulging at the corners. “My little brother. He’s gotten himself into trouble.”

Castiel’s eyes narrow.

"Not my kind of trouble," Dean says quickly. "Not the - not like when you came to me. Bad trouble, real bad. He won’t listen to me. He’s - he’s gotten mixed in with the wrong crowd."

The Alpha cocks his head to one side. “And you want me to…what? Scare him straight?” He laughs.

Dean growls - actually lifts his upper lip and  _growls_. It’s not at Castiel, the Alpha knows that, but it doesn’t stop the subtle prickle of red behind his eyes.

Dean leans forward, bracing his hands on the desk.

"I want that crowd to  _disappear_ ,” he hisses, all the venom of a protective older brother in his voice, “before Sam gets hurt. You said you could do that for me. Will you?”

A slow, wide smile spreads across Castiel’s face, and the Alpha pushes himself to his feet. He circles his desk until he’s standing in front of Dean, and cups the Omega’s face in gentle hands.

"For you," he murmurs, brushing his thumb under Dean’s eye, his smile wide. "Yes, I will."


	9. Follow Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I absolutely love the gangster!cas'verse and was hoping for some more. I was thinking that after Cas had filled Dean request, he and Dean are somewhere having some time to celebrate and Sam suddenly bursts in, panicked that all his 'friends' are missing/dead and finds his older brother in a somewhat compromising situation with the mob boss"

Dean heaved a tired sigh, forcing himself out of bed at the third series of knocks on the door to his suite. He lived in a separate wing of Castiel’s house, and one of the access doors led to the rest of the mansion, while the front door opened into the street beyond.

It was odd to get a knock from Castiel’s door, and even weirder when he hauled the door open to find the Alpha himself standing there. Immediately Dean let him inside, head lowered in deference as Castiel stepped inside, shrugging his coat off and hanging it on the coatrack near Dean’s door.

Dean didn’t ask why he was there. Castiel would tell him, or he wouldn’t. It wasn’t unusual for the Alpha to simply spend time in Dean’s company and his house, or vice versa. 

 

"Coffee?" he asked, wincing even as he said it. His throat was dry (he’d just woken up) and it was a good two hours since the automatic coffee machine would have finished. The stuff is probably burned or no good anymore.

Castiel shook his head. “No, thank you,” he replied, earning a small sigh of relief from the Omega. Then, he turned towards Dean. “Are you alright?”

"I, ah." Dean coughed, clearing his throat, and closed the door behind them before he made his way over to the main room. There were two large, plush chairs facing the entrance and the back of a leather couch to create a square for company, and Dean sat himself down in one of them. "I don’t feel too good. Might be comin’ down with something."

"You have been under a lot of stress," Castiel said with a thoughtful nod. "My mother always said illness was the body’s way of telling you to slow down."

Dean snorted. “Well, message received.”

Castiel hummed, and strode around the couch to stand in the center of Dean’s living room. “I’ve had your brother’s situation taken care of,” he said, making Dean raise his eyes. “The police received an anonymous tip about their drug den, and they have since been evicted and incarcerated.” He paused, and smiled, “And, of course, there will be no leads back to Sam.”

Dean breathed a huge sigh of relief, and pushed himself to his feet. “Thank you,” he said, his voice heavy with sincerity and gratitude. “Seriously. I don’t…” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair before wiping at his face. “I don’t know what could’a happened.”

Castiel merely nodded, looking away and through the large entryway to Dean’s bedroom. He could smell, faintly, the first spices of an Omega approaching Heat. Of course, he knew Dean’s cycle like clockwork now, and liked to indulge himself every now and again with smelling Dean’s pre-Heat sweetness, like fresh coffee in the morning or the promise of food.

"Did the gift last month suffice for your Heat?" he asked, startling Dean out of his own thoughts.

The Omega’s cheeks darkened a little, his eyes lowering as he bit his lip, shifted his weight at the memory of the fake knot stretching him wide. “Uh, yeah,” he said, coughing, his blush getting worse as the seconds ticked by. “It was very - satisfying, yeah.”

Castiel smiled, returning his gaze to Dean. “Good.”

Dean swallowed hard, a small frown passing across his face like he couldn’t decide what to say next - or, rather, if he should say what he was thinking.

The silence stretched on, tense but not uncomfortable between them, before Dean broke;

"You’re a good Alpha to me, Cas."

Castiel sucked in a deep breath, unprepared for the pure heat that shot through him at those words - of course, he knew Dean was loyal to him, and loved him in whatever complicated way they might love each other in this relationship of theirs, but to hear him say those words affected Castiel in a way he was not prepared for.

He knew he was reacting like an Alpha, his pheromones thickening the air, the backs of his eyes itching red to match the golden ring inside of Dean’s.

Dean was near Heat. He wasn’t thinking straight.

Neither was Castiel.

Dean licked his lips, his fingers curling, fidgeting around the hem of his t-shirt, and then the doorbell rang.

Accompanied by a series of loud, frantic knocks, the doorbell rang again and again. Castiel’s head snapped up, growling low at the sound of a perceived threat; perhaps they’d been discovered, and now enemies were coming to take Dean away.

He couldn’t let that happen.

"Dean! Dean! Let me in!"

Dean gasped. “Holy shit, that’s Sam,” he said, immediately rushing for the door.

Castiel caught him, and spun him around, cupping his face to keep him still.

"I’ll see myself out," he said, whispered and hurried. Dean licked his lips again, nodding, his fingers curling around Castiel’s wrists as they stared at each other.

In a small moment of indulgence, Castiel let his thumb run over Dean’s red lower lip. “I’ll be back when your Heat is over,” he said, voice heavy and dark with promise, before he placed a light and unhurried kiss on Dean’s forehead.

Then, he let Dean go, and the Omega rushed to let in his frantic younger brother.


	10. Confrontation

Sam almost fell on top of Dean once the door was opened. He’d grown a lot over the past two years in college, sprouting up so that all his baby weight had evened into broad-shouldered Alpha, and even though Dean was by no means small he still stumbled back in a quick attempt to keep Sam upright as he burst into Dean’s suite.

 

"Sammy," Dean greeted with a clap to his shoulder, before letting him in with a quick once-over through the front lawn. Didn’t need any eyes looking too closely. "What’s the matter, man?"

"What did you do?" Sam demanded, looking like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to shake the answers out of Dean or shout at him for it. Dean supposed it would have been naive of him to assume Sam wouldn’t think he was involved.

He rubbed his fingers into the bridge of his nose, sighing. “It was for your own good,” he said, striding past Sam and into his kitchen. Burned or not he desperately needed coffee. “Those folks had some bad shit goin’ down. The fact that I heard about it at all is proof of that.”

"So, what, you’re full-time employed now?" Sam snapped. He knew about Dean’s involvement with Castiel’s gang. For a while he hadn’t questioned where Dean suddenly got the money to go to school and move out of the crappy apartment that had been left to them in their father’s will, and he hadn’t thought too hard about where Dean was getting the money to buy books (just knew that Dean wasn’t turning tricks because he never smelled like another Alpha).

But then Dean had started smelling different, infused with the stench of Alpha and gunpowder and bleach and Sam had known that Dean had gotten into some shit.

They’d had this argument for two years now, since Sam was eighteen and old enough to take over Dean’s guardianship until he found a mate. It was only because Dean didn’t seem to be abused or molested that he’d held his tongue for the most part.

Dean turned around, glaring tiredly at his brother over the rim of his coffee cup. “For the record,” he said evenly, “I came to Cas about this.  _I_ asked for that crowd to go away.” He sighed, setting the cup down, and braced himself on the kitchen counter behind him. “I was worried about you, Sammy, you can’t stop me worryin’.”

Sam shook his head with a low growl, and turned away. Dean thought he was going to storm out, but Sam suddenly stopped, breathing in a deep lungful of the air in the living room.

Dean swallowed and remained still as Sam scented the air, his exhale coming out as a low growl when he turned back around. “He was just here, wasn’t he?” he demanded.

Dean nodded. “Came to tell me the good news.” His fingers clenched a little tighter around the granite countertop, before he forced himself to relax. “He always comes to check up on me before my Heat, anyway, makes sure I have everything I need.”

”’ _Checks up’_?” Sam repeated, his voice a sneer. _  
_

"He’s never touched me, Sam," Dean snapped back. "Not in a way I didn’t want. Not like that."

"But he  _has_ touched you?”

“ _No_.” Dean sighed again, rubbing at his eyes. He was getting one hell of a headache, and with so many Alphas around him now he could feel the first awful, aching cramps of Heat worming their way through his lower stomach. “Fuck.” He grabbed his coffee and moved away from the kitchen and towards his brother.

He shoved the cup into Sam’s hands. “Stay as long as you want. I need to go take a nap or something.”

"Are you alright?"

"Fine." Dean waved away Sam’s concerned shadow. "I think I’m comin’ down with something, but it’s fine. Nothing sleep won’t cure." He shoved open the door to his bedroom, rubbing at his forehead one more time. "Think my Heat’s startin’ soon, too, so you might wanna clear out."

"This conversation isn’t over, Dean," Sam said, voice warning and low.

Dean forced a smile, not replying as the bedroom door clicked shut behind him. It was like Sam didn’t remember that Dean had raised him since diapers. Once Sam got an idea in his head it was tough to knock it the Hell back out.

He could only hope Sam would trust Dean when he said he wasn’t being mistreated. He’d meant what he said - Castiel was a good Alpha to him, one that he thinks Sam would like if they’d met under different circumstances.

The promise of a shower and a warm bed was too good for him to put off any longer. With a long sigh Dean shrugged his sleep clothes off and stepped into the shower, hoping that the warm water and steam would clear his headache so that he could get a decent nap in and face his Heat in better health.

 


	11. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "OMG Rowan your gangster!cas is awesome! Could you continue it for (next) omega!dean wednesday? Like, Dean is approaching Heat but he's also been sick and Cas doesn't trust any doctor to cure him properly so he wants to tend to Dean himself, but he doesn't know if he can control himself if the heat hits? I would totally love you! (more than I already do now)"

"Sir? Sir!"

Castiel turned on his heel, his head cocked to one side as he saw Rachel hurrying up to him. “Yes, what is it?” he snapped. He was in no mood to parlay with the police or have a meeting with the Goddamn Chicago men again (sacks of Alpha waste, the lot of them). His lungs burned with the memories of Dean’s scent and he was angry at himself for his lack of control with the Omega earlier today.

Rachel came to a stop in front of him, straightening and clearing her throat. “Our guards found an unaccounted for Alpha roaming the halls, Sir. He claims to be the Omega’s brother, and he keeps asking for you.”

Sam? What on Earth was Sam doing wandering his house? Castiel’s eyes narrowed and he breathed in, slow and deep, through his nose.

"Where is he now?"

"We’ve contained him in the southwest dining room."

"Very well," Castiel said with a sigh and a wave of his hand. "Summon Balthazar in case we need some kind of clean-up crew." He didn’t wait for her acknowledgement before he was striding quickly down the halls, back towards Dean’s suite.

 

At least this might prove to be distraction enough when all he could think about was Dean. Dean, approaching his Heat and smelling so sweet, when his body was pure and ripe for an Alpha.

He growled low in his throat when he spied the guard blocking out the door, and waved them away impatiently.  _Control yourself._

"Sam," he greeted calmly, the other Alpha’s head snapping up as he entered the room. "Welcome. I’ve heard a lot about you."

Sam’s eyes narrowed. Castiel could feel the assessing gaze raking over him and bore it steadily, chin lifted as Sam pushed himself to his feet. There were two guards in the room as well, armed with their weapons pointing at Sam’s chest. Even if there hadn’t been, Castiel sensed no real aggression from the young man - it was the instinct of every Alpha to weigh their sizes and heights against each other.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he finally asked when the silence had stretched far too long. He could scent the faint traces of Dean around Sam and knew the brothers had talked after he left - the only surprise here was to find Sam wandering around the house. Dean would have never let him in.

Sam’s nostrils flared wide, his eyes red. “Dean’s sick,” he snapped, his full height almost towering over Castiel.

The other Alpha hummed, nodding to himself. “Yes, I’m aware,” he replied. “I assume it was the common cold, nothing more.” He shrugged and forced his tone to remain even - he had not been worried, because he trusted that Dean would come to him if he needed anything.

"He’s throwing up," Sam said. Castiel’s gaze snapped back to him at that. "He’s got a fever, and can barely talk."

"What?" Castiel demanded, his voice low and flat. That was definitely no common sickness, and with Dean’s Heat approaching the Omega would be in no physical shape to fight the disease away.

He turned at a knock to the door, growling a soft greeting as Balthazar slipped inside. “Summon Joshua,” he ordered, “and have him sent immediately to Dean’s room. His escort will be only Betas. I will be along shortly.”

The orders came easily, and Balthazar nodded and quickly left, leaving the two Alphas and the guards alone in the room once more.

"I’ll take good care of him," Castiel said softly as he turned back to regard the Alpha. Every part of his body was tingling with the need to go to Dean, to comfort and heal him the best way he could - though he was no doctor, the presence of an Alpha was enough to ease an Omega and generally had been found to promote well being. 

Sam growled when Castiel made to leave the room. “I’m not just leaving my brother here!”

"Sam, I cannot allow you to stay."

"And why the hell not?"

"Because there are people in this city who want to hurt me," Castiel snapped, rounding on the younger Alpha, "and they know they can do that through Dean, and they can hurt Dean through you. You need to  _leave_ , and forget you ever came here today.”

Sam held his ground, his red eyes defiant, challenging.

"Come back after Dean’s Heat," Castiel said. "But for now, you must forget that you have a brother."

"Oh, and  _you’ll_  take care of him?” Sam hissed, his voice derisive. “Works out pretty well, doesn’t it. You won’t be able to help him when he’s in  _Heat_ , you know. You’re just like any other knothead panting after my brother’s ass -.”

“ _Sam_.” The Alpha Voice tore through the room, as vicious as a knife straight through the heart. Then, it was gone, and Castiel took a deep breath and straightened, squaring his shoulders, lifting his head. “I’m not going to argue with someone who is barely a man. Dean is under my care, and by living in this house has given himself over to my guardianship.”

He raised a hand, gesturing to the two armed men. “My friends will see you out. I will make sure Dean knows to contact you when he has recovered.”

"You son of a bitch -."

"And I thank you for notifying me of his illness."

Castiel left before Sam could rush him, but the younger Alpha’s curses and threats were easily heard all through the halls of Castiel’s house until Castiel managed to push through the door to Dean’s suite.

The stench of in-Heat Omega almost knocked him to his knees. It was so sweet, full of promise. The suite was full of Betas, and Castiel could hear Joshua’s voice from within Dean’s bedroom.

He pushed his way inside, breathing out a soft sigh of relief when he saw Dean in his bed, curled into the doctor’s soothing and gentle hands. As soon as he entered Dean must have smelled him, because the Omega’s golden eyes opened and landed on Castiel, and he let out a soft whine of distress.

Castiel all but ran to Dean’s side and crawled into Dean’s bed, letting himself rest against Dean’s back as Joshua began to attach an IV to the inside of his arm and checking his vitals.

"I’m here, Dean," he murmured, letting his fingers brush through the Omega’s sweaty, dark hair. "I’m here."

 


	12. A Good Alpha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowan, could you maybe write something for the gangster!Cas verse? :) Maybe Cas taking care of our sick baby Dean?
> 
> Gangster!Cas - What happens while Dean is sick??? oh man you can't just leave it there! It's the perfect opportunity for angsty bits AND fluffy bits!

Dean was diagnosed with the flu. In between the fever, where Dean would mindlessly cling to Castiel in his bed and make soft, desperate noises, Castiel managed to figure out that one of his lab partners had been sick a few weeks ago and he could have caught it from them.

Because of his Heat there wasn't much that Joshua could do. Castiel's presence was driving Dean crazy, his body too caught in the desperation of needing an Alpha to respond to medication, and the flu weakening him too much to the point where he could barely eat.

It was too late to take suppressants: the only answer was to wait it out.

Castiel had, admittedly, never spent much time around an in-Heat Omega before. He had never taken a mate and none of his siblings were Omega, or mated to any that he had met. Similarly, he had never dealt with anyone while they were sick.

To say he was unprepared would have been an understatement, and Castiel did not like being unprepared for  _anything._

He ended up sending Joshua and his team away - they could do nothing for Dean except feed him when he was awake and stay attentive to his body temperature so that the flu and the Heat fever didn't burn him from the inside out. Both of those things, Castiel was perfectly capable of taking care of, and so he sent them away.

Dean's scent was amazing, only slightly bittered by the stench of his sickness. He clung to Castiel like a newborn pup. He was fever-warm but Castiel couldn't bring himself to mind when Dean wiped his sweaty hands and forehead on Castiel's clothes, or when the Omega buried his face in Castiel's neck and just clung to him. It was strangely...nice, intimate even.

Dean let out a quiet whine, indicating that he was awake. Immediately Castiel sat up and grabbed a water bottle from the bedside table.

"Dean," he said, watching as Dean's whole body shivered at his voice. "Sit up."

He had never made a habit out of using his Alpha Voice, but in Dean's state it was the only thing he would respond to.

Sluggishly, Dean pushed himself to his feet. His eyes, at least, seemed clearer than they had been. It had been four days and his Heat should have begun to subside by now.

"Drink," Castiel ordered, and watched as Dean grabbed the bottle with shaking hands and tipped it back, chugging it until it was almost empty before he let it go with a gasp and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

"Shit," he hissed, wincing at the sound of his own voice. "I feel like shit."

Castiel nodded. "You were very sick," he said. "Although I have noted progress in the past eight hours."

Dean frowned over at him. "How long have I been here?" he asked.

"Approximately four days. I have checked on you when I have been able," Castiel said with a small nod towards the remainder of the water in the bottle. Dean blushed, looking down, and obediently finished it. "Now that you are awake and fairly lucid, I will summon Joshua again. Perhaps he can give you medication to speed your recovery along."

Dean swallowed, playing with the cap of the bottle between his hands. "Are you - do you have to leave right away?" he asked.

Castiel fixed him with a look, eyes narrowed and appraising. Dean bore the gaze even if he couldn't quite meet the Alpha's eyes.

"I just -." Dean rubbed the back of his neck, his body shivering in a Heat aftershock. The room stank of it, and Castiel's answering pheromones, and the gold in Dean's eyes was still strong and glowing slightly. "I got - I remember flashes, you know. And you were there and I just -." He shifted in place, a self-deprecating laugh falling out.

"Never mind," he finished, rolling his shoulders. "Thanks, ah, for the water, I guess."

Castiel considered him for a moment, before the Alpha nodded to himself, and settled back in the bed. Dean's golden eyes followed him, questioning, his shoulders tense and drawn in.

"I have spent four days here with you in the peak of your Heat," Castiel said, quietly, like he was talking to himself. "I will not be weak now." After another nod, he directed his gaze to Dean. "I want to be a good Alpha to you, Dean, and if you wish me to stay with you for a little while longer, then I will obey."

After a long moment, Dean's expression broke into a wide smile. He looked beautiful like that. He looked like he wanted to say so much, but all that came out was a soft, sincere, "Thanks, Cas."


	13. Execution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anything with gangster!Cas today?
> 
> Gangster Cas sends Dean out on his first mission!
> 
> For Omega!Dean Wednesday can we have some more Alpha!gangster!Cas - I really love your Cas and that verse :’D

"I think you’re ready."

Dean blinked, frowning up at Castiel. Castiel had obeyed Dean’s desire to stay with him, and though they were sharing the same bed at the moment Castiel had been careful to keep his distance. Dean was laying on his side, his head resting just shy of the large mound of pillows, Castiel propped up so that most of his upper body was upright and he could see the door.

"Ready?" Dean repeated, his throat dry and his voice hoarse. He’d managed to start keeping food down and his medication, but he still looked sickly, and the fringes of his Heat still teased at Castiel’s senses.

Castiel looked down at him, his eyes sharp and assessing, taking in the dark circles under Dean’s eyes, the darkness of his hair from sweat, the redness of his mouth. He smiled, his fingers twitching like he wanted to start petting through Dean’s hair, but held himself back.

"Yes," he said, trying to keep his voice kind. "I have a special task that needs to be completed, but I don’t have the necessary man power for that kind of thing. You, though…"

Dean frowned, his tired brain sluggishly trying to fill the end in. “Because I’m Omega,” he said, sighing. He supposed it had been naive of him to think that his missions would stay low-key in Castiel’s organization. Things had been escalating fairly evenly, from gun training to actual murder (Dean had  _killed_ one of those null Alphas, he’d known even if Castiel had never officially confirmed their deaths). 

"You want me to fuck my way in?" Dean asked, his voice carefully neutral.

"No." At that, Castiel’s fingers did clench, knuckles white. "I do  _not_ want to  _fuck_  your way in.” He hissed the word, eyes flashing and lifting away from Dean so that he was glaring at the door instead. Then, he took a breath in, the red in his eyes slowly fading away. “You won’t have to. Not smelling like you do. I just need a distraction.”

Dean nodded. He could definitely do that. Slowly, he lifted his eyes and reached out to smooth his hand over Castiel’s clenched fist. At the tough the Alpha’s eyes flashed to him, wide. “Okay, Cas,” he said, licking his lips, thumb rubbing over the tight tendon on the back of Castiel’s hand. “I’ll - I’ll do my best. I promise.”

 

 

 

He could totally do this.

Flirting and charming came easily to Dean - he’d grown up having to sweet-talk his way into an extra night for him and Sammy, into making any pool bar chump lay down that extra twenty. Point was, Dean knew how to flirt, how to  _distract_.

The fact that he still reeked of Heat was definitely helping. His mind was clear but his body was definitely still on board with the idea of walking into a pool of potential, strong mates. These men were Castiel’s enemies, and the fact that he would rather send Dean in than throw men onto their guns meant they were likely dangerous.

Yeah, Dean thought, swallowing hard. He could totally do this.

Castiel had made him shower and wash the scent of any other Alpha off of him. Soon Dean stank of pure, fertile Omega as he walked into the nondescript bar. It looked like the same one he’d first met Castiel in, complete with low lighting and a layer of smoke along the ceiling.

A few Alphas already had their red eyes out, straightening as he walked into the bar.

Dean plastered his sweetest smile and leaned over the edge of the bar. “I’m looking for Milton,” he said to the bartender, biting his lip and cocking his hip out for good measure. 

The bartender raised an eyebrow, before he continued to wipe at his glass. “Who’s askin’?”

Dean let his eyes rake down. He matched the description - tall, blond, pretty blue eyes. Dean could see the thin ring of red around the edges, Alpha barely held in check. He rolled his shoulders, bracing himself further onto the bar. 

"I’m a present for him," he said, his grin widening when the Alpha’s eyes snapped to him, narrowed and sharp, suddenly interested.

"That so," the bartender said, setting down his glass and tossing the cloth over his shoulder a-la every mafia bartender ever. Behind Dean, the outside guards had followed him inside, leaving the entrance exposed. Castiel’s men should be moving in soon. "From who, exactly?"

Dean raised an eyebrow, then grinned, his tongue resting behind his teeth. He spread his hands out and shrugged. “Look, I just go where I’m told, you know. But I could  _really_ use anyone interested if Milton doesn’t want me.”

He pushed back from the bar and let his eyes rake appreciatively around the gathered men. Alphas, every single one of them. Dean shivered, gold flaring in his eyes, and let his gaze go back to the bartender.

He felt a prickle along his nape.

The bartender looked Dean up and down again, before he smiled, showing the points of his fangs. “You’re looking at him.”

That was everything Castiel was waiting for - his men burst through the front door, swarming in like locusts into the bar, weapons drawn. It was too sudden for most of the men in the bar to draw, and they had been pulled in by Dean’s scent and were easily circled.

Castiel stepped in after his men, his jaw clenched, the grip on his gun tight. “Dean,” he ordered, and held out his hand. “Come here.”

Dean gratefully slinked to his side and the bartender’s eyes narrowed on Castiel as Dean ducked behind him, breathing out a sigh of relief.

"Castiel," he said, nodding. Then, with a raised eyebrow, "Gonna introduce us?"

Castiel hummed. “You weren’t interested in his name when you wanted to fuck him,” he said mildly. “And I hardly see the point when this is the first and last time he will ever see you.”

The bartender smirked and Castiel rolled his eyes. “Lucifer, Dean, Dean, Lucifer - one of my older brothers.”

Dean’s eyes widened and he looked over at the bartender - Lucifer.

"You better hope none of my group survives, baby brother," Lucifer said with an easy smile, apparently uncaring for the many weapons pointed in his direction. "Or that pretty piece of ass you’ve got will regret ever walking in here with you."

Castiel’s eyes flashed red at the threat to Dean, and he raised his pistol. He didn’t say anything, merely unloaded his clip into Lucifer and those Alphas nearest him. Dean averted his eyes as the rest of Castiel’s gang performed the execution, killing the rest of his gathered men.

"Check the back rooms too," Castiel ordered, returning his pistol to its holster. He looked over his shoulder, meeting Dean’s eyes. "Let’s leave."

Dean nodded, sparing one last look to the pile of bodies, the shot-up bar, the pool of blood slowly gathering around the bodies, and shuddered, before following Castiel out without another look back.


	14. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now I just want gangster!cas scent marking Dean after cas thought he was in danger And cas doesn't even realize what he's doing and tries to play it off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah two in one day look at that

The car ride back was quiet. Castiel couldn't afford to be seen at the scene of a major crime, and Dean didn't even think to ask if he should stay behind and help out as well. 

Not that he wanted to, but well, that whole shit wouldn't have gone down nearly so cleanly if he hadn't been involved. The blood of those men was on his hands now.

He looked down at his hands, biting his lip as he kneaded his palms on his thighs. The presence of so many Alphas wasn't enough to pull his Heat back to the surface but he was definitely feeling the buzz, hot in the back of his head like he needed to go running and see if someone was going to chase him.

"So," he coughed, trying to distract himself. "That guy was your brother."

Castiel's eyes flickered to him, then away and back out of the window, watching the buildings slowly roll by on the way back his mansion. "Yes," he said. "He was the second oldest of us all. His crew was small but fiercely loyal."

He frowned at the back of the divider in front of them, as though wondering why he was telling Dean this, before he heaved a breath through his nose and fixed his eyes back on the Omega. 

"You have to understand, Dean," Castiel murmured. "He was a threat. Normally I would offer my enemies a chance to join me, but his crew would have never come to my side. Death was the only option I had."

"You can't even say his name," Dean said, swallowing and averting his eyes.

Castiel blinked, and looked back to gaze out of the window. He almost looked ashamed. "No," he said. "My oldest brothers have had a feud since before I was even born. I was raised with Michael." He heaved another sigh. 

"So you didn't even  _know_ him," Dean said, his voice sharper, dark with revulsion. "You just  _slaughtered_ him and you didn't even  _know_ him -."

"Dean," Castiel interrupted, his voice hard. He didn't look away from the city outside. "I shared this information with you so that you might understand my motivations better. Don't make me regret being so open with you."

Dean subsided with a heavy sigh and turned his face away. Still, the conversation had gone a long way to calming down his body's baser urges, so it was easy to stay in the car with Castiel until the lights of the mansion began to light their way. The car pulled up in front of Dean's apartment entrance first and Castiel got out with him, much to Dean's surprise.

Dean blinked at him, questioning. 

"I need to know that you understand," Castiel said, his hands sliding into the pockets of his coat. The night was cold and Dean had dressed to display his body for the distraction. He was freezing and fought the urge to curl into the closest source of heat available - Castiel himself. "I need to know that..." He took a step closer, halves of his coat held out in offering, and Dean bit his lip and stepped into it. "That your loyalties haven't been damaged by what you've seen today."

Dean snorted a laugh. It wasn't like he could do anything about it anyway - he'd done enough bad that he'd be destined for jail should he leave. And he still owed Castiel, a  _lot_ , for everything he had done for Sam and Dean and still was doing.

One of Castiel's hands had slipped from his pocket, rubbing up and down Dean's shivering arms. Dean folded his arms across his chest, a shiver running through him.

"They haven't," Dean finally said, lifting his gaze to Castiel's, surprised at the look he found there - it was the same steel-lined look Castiel had, but his eyes were open, earnest. "I'm not goin' anywhere, Cas."

At that, the Alpha smiled, his hand running up to Dean's shoulders and squeezing gently. In the cold, Castiel was the only thing Dean could smell, and he was so  _warm_ , his scent conditioned into Dean's body to recognize as safety and protection.

Castiel's hand had slid to the nape of Dean's neck, slowly stroking, before Dean realized what had happened. Dean sucked in a breath, blinking rapidly, his body frozen. Castiel's fingers were a hot touch on his neck, thumb gently tracing the line of Dean's jaw.

He put pressure on Dean's jaw and Dean was tilting his head to one side without even thinking about it, exposing his throat, before Castiel cleared his throat and blinked, his eyes clearing and darkening as he slid back behind that intimidating, cold mask again.

"Good," he said with a short nod, his hand slamming itself back into his pocket like it was offending him to look at. "Get inside, Dean," he snapped, stepping away. "You're still not well again and I refuse to let you get sick and flunk out of school after I've invested so much money in you."

The words, the reminder of their relationship and just what exactly it was, was like a bucket of cold water over Dean's head. He blushed, ashamed of himself for how he'd acted, and ducked his head before he turned away and hurried to his apartment door. He turned around once he reached the door, only to find Castiel already gone, walking up the path towards his mansion proper.


	15. Payback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear god. May we have more gangster!cas?
> 
> More mafia alphacas?! Maybe he gets injured during a job from a fault in the defense or a surprise attack and dean freaks out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trash but people keep prompting it so.

 

Dean woke to hearing the door leading to Castiel's mansion slam shut, following by a loud grunt. He threw the sheets back and hurriedly tugged the gun Castiel had given him from his bedside table, before running out into the main room.

Shit. "Cas!" he hissed, running over right before the Alpha collapsed against the door. He was trying to shove against it, his teeth gritted in concentrate, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. He left a smear of blood as he slowly fell down to the floor.

Dean reached up and locked all the bolts on the door, and put the chain across, before turning his attention back to Castiel. The Alpha was watching Dean's actions, breathing heavily. There was blood on his shirt.

"Shit," Dean whispered, setting the gun down and peeling back the ripped collar of Castiel's shirt. There were three long, jagged claw marks running from just under Castiel's collarbone, across his chest and ending just shy of where his heart was, beating fast in his chest. "Shit, Cas, what do I do - what should I do?"

Castiel coughed, drawing in another pained breath. On the other side of the door, Dean could hear yelling.

"You're the fucking surgery student," Castiel growled. "Joshua is currently incapacitated, Dean. I need you to fix this."

His arm twitched in an aborted movement towards his chest, and Dean nodded frantically. Right. Right, he could totally do this. What were all those years in school worth if he couldn't perform some simply stitching?

He pushed the gun into Castiel's hands and ran to his bathroom, hauling the first aid kit from underneath the sink. When he returned, the yelling was getting louder.

"We need to get you away from the door," he murmured, taking the little scissors and cutting Castiel's shirt down the hem, baring his chest. 

The Alpha shook his head. "Can't," he said, shifting his weight and wincing. It was then that Dean noticed another growing pool of blood - this one coming from his leg, his calf. There was a bullet hole in his slacks. "I'm the - the only thing standing between them and you." He tilted his head up, blinking at the ceiling. "I  _told_ them to check the back rooms!"

Dean's eyes darted up, but his hands didn't stop from wiping down Castiel's wounds. They were deep and he'd already lost a lot of blood. "Lucifer's?" he asked, remembering the threat the Alpha had given him right before he'd died.

Castiel nodded and licked his dry lips. "Dean, if they -." He hissed at the rub of alcohol over his skin, glaring down at his wounds. "You need to make sure - I have safehouses. Do you know where they are?"

"Fuck you," Dean growled. "I won't need 'em, alright?" He shifted his weight, rolling up Castiel's pants leg until he could see the ugly, gross bullet wound on Castiel's calf. It had gone straight through. "Shit. Okay. How many are there out there?" _  
_

Castiel hissed as Dean grabbed a needle and thread, wiping down the bullet holes before hurriedly started to sew Castiel's wounds shut. It was sloppy and would likely need to be redone by Joshua but it was the best he could do with what he had, and Castiel had still clearly managed to run so the tendon wasn't broken or snapped.

"Five came for me," Castiel said, his tone flat like he was counting hours in the day. "There were three more I smelled. Balthazar's team has responded. The threat should be nullified soon."

At that moment, there was a loud thud against the door, jarring them both. "Fuck," Dean growled, before he reached out to haul Castiel away by the shoulders. "We gotta get away from the door."

"Help me up, Dean," Castiel ordered. "I can fight. Help me up."

"Like Hell." The bolts were quickly cracking, paint chipping away. Dean grabbed his gun back from Castiel's hands. "You can't even stand." He dragged Castiel as far away as he could and crouched in front of him, gun leveled on the door.

The door crumpled under the weight of another blow and three Alphas came running in. Dean managed to shoot one in the knee, then the chest as he fell. Another Alpha dropped when Dean fired three solid shots to his chest. At such a close range, it was hard to miss.

The third snarled and raised his weapon, only to freeze and collapse as a bullet went right between his eyes. Dean turned around to see Castiel with his own weapon drawn, aimed at the third Alpha.

"Empty these into their heads," Castiel said quickly, pushing his silver pistol into Dean's hands. "They might be wearing vests."

Dean didn't even have to think about it - these things had threatened his nest and shot, had  _hurt_ Cas. He stood and pointed for the two he'd downed, placing a single bullet right to the back of their skulls and through the floor.

"Prop me up," Castiel ordered, dragging himself with Dean's help to a sitting position, facing the door so that he could take out any new threat while Dean went back to working on his wounds.

Dean shook his head, cradling Castiel's head briefly, forcing the Alpha to meet his eyes. "I swear to God, Cas..." He didn't have an end for that sentence. The Alpha nodded, though, understanding what Dean couldn't say. Dean leaned their foreheads together, breathing deeply, before he pulled away. 

"Just gotta sew these up, then you should be fine. Crutches, but fine."

Castiel's mouth twisted but he remained silent, his sharp eyes fixed on the door. A little over half an hour later Balthazar came rushing in through the door and found Dean and Castiel sitting next to each other, Castiel hastily bandaged, one hand on his gun and aimed for the door, the other gently carding through Dean's hair as the Omega rested, head on his thigh.

Balthazar raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "Is the threat gone?" Castiel asked, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Dean. "Good," he said when Balthazar nodded. "Take care of these three."

Balthazar and his crew worked to drag the three bodies away. Dean's apartment would have to be cleaned up of all the blood.

Castiel's mouth twisted again, and he looked away from the mess. He had guest rooms in his own mansion as well - he would suggest it to Dean, and leave the decision up to him.


	16. Caretaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the gangster!Cas forever and ever, please and thank you.
> 
> Okay, so I would really love some more Gangster!Cas and Omega!Dean, something like.. the after-thing after the last one? Or some more balance in Cas and Dean's relationship or something? I just really love this verse, ahhhhh

Living down the hall was the safest place for Dean to be right now. Castiel had tightened up and doubled security, rigorously examined all of his personnel so he recognized them on sight and scent alone, and had ordered Balthazar to bring in their files on all of their affiliates and contacts so that he could weed out any possibly suspicious people, just to be safe.

Dean thought it was a little over the top, but damn him if it wasn't kind of flattering to see Castiel get so protective all of a sudden.

Of course, to think that all this was purely for Dean's benefit required a level of egotism he simply didn't have; Castiel was injured, he could barely walk even with the crutches, and he was weak. If word got out that the infamous, ruthless mafia boss was vulnerable the results could be devastating.

Dean stayed with him for most of the day. Joshua, while a skilled medic, was more skilled healing diseases, not gunshot wounds, and after the initial panic had died down Dean had been able to recall enough of his lessons to restitch Castiel's wounds. Joshua had given him some ointments that would help prevent infections and honestly Dean wasn't sure Castiel would have even used them had he not been there to basically force the bitter-smelling stuff onto him.

Dean had to remind Castiel to take his pain meds, too. He wasn't sure if it was pride, arrogance or sheer stubbornness that prevented Castiel from heeding a fucking doctor's advice but it was really started to grate on him.

"You're in pain," he would say, shoving the pills into Castiel's hand, a glass of water into his other. "You don't need to be."

"You're going to get gangrene," he'd say when even that stopped working. "Your foot will fall off if we don't try to prevent infection. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

It was infuriating. Sure, Dean knew Castiel could sometimes be a bit of an ass but he was such a  _child_ when he was injured. It was really doing a lot to switch his view of the dark, intimidating Alpha he'd thought he'd known for so long.

It came to a head when Dean found one of Castiel's full pain prescriptions in the garbage can. He took it back into Castiel's office, waited until he was invited inside, and calmly (well, he went for calm) came over and set it pointedly on Castiel's desk.

The Alpha didn't even look up. "Those are not necessary," he said, flipping a page in the file he was pouring over. 

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Bullshit," he said. His fingers curled in, itching for some way to show his anger. "Goddamn it, why won't you let me take care of you?"

At that, Castiel's eyes lifted, the surprise clear. Then, he cocked his head to one side. "You're worried about me," he murmured, as though only just realizing it. Dean barely managed to not roll his eyes. Castiel frowned, looking down again, before he heaved a sigh. "I don't...enjoy the idea of being dependent on a single person," he finally said, like the words were getting dragged out of him. It was the same tone he'd used when describing his reasons for killing Lucifer - like he was explaining himself to Dean out of the kindness of his own heart, like it was a favor.

"Well, tough," Dean snapped. "You're the one who ran to me to fix you up and now I can't go back to my place, so you're stuck with me." He picked up the pill bottle and shook it, hearing the rattle. "Now you can be stuck with me, all pissy and in pain, or you can be stuck with me knowing we're both a little happier because you're taking your meds."

Castiel's eyes lifted to him again, that same assessing look coming over his face that he always seemed to have around Dean, like every day Dean was this new animal he'd never seen before.

"Would it make you happy if I took those?" he said, nodding his head with thinly veiled dislike towards the pill bottle in Dean's hand.

The Omega let out a loud breath. " _Yes_ ," he said, stressing the word. "Yes it would."

Castiel frowned again, before he heaved a sigh. "Fine," he bit out. Despite his protests he seemed relieved enough when the pain meds set in, and even managed to smile when Dean brought him his food a few hours later.


	17. Protect and Serve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ladyofevil submitted: MOAR Mafia!Cas, where Dean is staying at Cas’ while his appt. is cleaned of the blood, and Dean is being such a mother hen to injured Cas, and won’t leave him alone, and watches Cas while he sleeps, and Cas just loving Dean’s scent being all over his private quarters. 
> 
> Maybe hint about why Cas is determined not to be dependent on one person? Like, Dean gets him to rest and relax a little after the incident, and is surprised when Cas flips and tells him enough is enough?

>   
>  Dean,  _stop_ ."   
> 

 

Dean blinked, surprised at Castiel's sudden anger. "What?" he demanded, frowning. His hands fidgeted by his sides.

 

The Alpha glared at him. "Stop  _mothering_ me," he said, exasperated.

 

Dean rolled his eyes. "Hello?  _Omega_ ," he replied, gesturing to himself. "Kind of in the biology."

 

"Yes, I am  _very_ aware of what you are," Castiel said, just narrowly overcoming the desire to cross his arms like a sulking child. Dean had never explicitly said it but Castiel knew Dean thought he was being ridiculous. "Your scent is all over the damn place now."

 

Dean raised an eyebrow at that. "Yeah, well, maybe next time don't piss off a bunch of fanatics with  _guns_  and then come  _running_ to me and getting blood all over the place!"

 

"I was  _trying_  to protect you!"

 

"Well a fat lot of good that did!" Dean growled back, his arms moving finally, unstuck from their positions at his sides, to gesture towards Castiel, and then back to the door to his office. "Look, you invited me into your house, I  _assumed_ to wait out the cleaning crew or whatever."

 

Dean forced himself to stop, taking in a deep breath. "I'm gettin' real tired of bein' jerked around on your leash,  _Sir_. Just tell me what you  _want_."

 

Castiel glared at him for a long moment, until Dean was sure that the Alpha would simply refuse to answer. Then, he turned his gaze away and heaved another heavy, unhappy sigh. "I don't know what I want," he said after a moment. "Not when it comes to you."

 

"I can guess," Dean replied softly. He still remembered the way Castiel had looked at him that night, could remember the heat along his neck and his face where the Alpha had touched him.

 

Castiel's eyes turned to him, unreadable and dark. "It is  _my_ job to protect  _you_ ," he said. "That was the terms of our contract." Dean barely managed not to flinch at the word, the reminder. Every time he thought they might be getting closer to something more even, Castiel threw it back in his face, reminding Dean just what kind of obligations he owed Castiel.

 

"Right," Dean said. "Well, you can't protect me if you get too sick to fight, to lead, or if you die." He shook his head. "You should let me help."

 

"It is the duty of the Alpha to protect," Castiel said, his eyes far away.

 

Dean frowned. Castiel spoke as though it was something that had been drilled into him. "And for the Omega, it's to serve," he continued, finishing the old line that had always rubbed him the wrong way. Castiel's eyes flashed to him, surprised. "Let me serve you, then, so that you can protect me."

 

Castiel's brow furrowed, and he looked like he was about to argue, before he abruptly subsided with a small nod and turned away again. "Very well," he said. Then, more quietly when Dean was finishing up the task of making sure he was comfortable in his bed, he added; "Thank you, Dean. I am grateful."

 

"Sure got a funny way of showin' it," Dean replied.

 

"Yes." A ghost of a smile passed across Castiel's face, imperceptible. "I'll do my best to work on that."


	18. Rising Rank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God, I just can't get enough of the gangboss!alpha!cas and omega!dean verse, it's just soooo good! What if Cas sees Dean while he's with one of his alpha friends and they're being all giggly and touchy and Cas gets really jealous/possessive
> 
> What if for gangster!cas fic, cas and Balthazar are busy during a job which dean is involved in and he can see cas is too far away to make orders so dean belts out orders which other people end up listening too. cas is slightly annoyed but really impressed, especially it being the right call. Tho could be Like a year or two after his first job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol this is nothing like either of those but I got a bug.

>  

Dean hasn't come back home for three days. Castiel has his entire gang combing the streets for him but Dean is nowhere to be found - he's not at school (apparently they've broken up for a week anyway), Sam hasn't seen him (which earned a lot more questions that Castiel will have to deal with later). It's like he's dropped off the face of the Earth.

Castiel is till in crutches, hobbling around as best he can while he tries to gradually return weight to his leg until he can walk properly again. He's trying to keep it together and not completely lose it over the fact that it's now been  _eighty hours_ and Dean is  _nowhere to be found_.

When Dean finally returns Castiel snarls at him and immediately orders everyone out of the conference room. He's furious, trying to scramble to his feet on the crutches while Dean stands there, eyes glowing golden and chin tilted up in defiance.

"Where the  _Hell_ have you been?" Castiel growls, baring his teeth at Dean as he stalks over. The crutches make him slow and unintimidating, but that doesn't stop him glaring as best he can at Dean.

As he gets closer, he can smell it on Dean.  _Alpha_. It's thick, coating him like a second skin and Castiel almost recoils.

Dean licks his lips, but refuses to drop his gaze. "I found the rest of Lucifer's men," he said after a long moment. "I knew they were after me, so I took some of your temp guys to run an undercover type thing. We found 'em, and killed 'em."

Castiel narrows his eyes. "You took some of my men," he says flatly, "unsolicited, without consulting me -."

"You were bedridden!" Dean snaps, gesturing to Castiel's crutches. "And they could have come back at any time." His chest rises with a big inhale and he lets it out through his nose. "I neutralized a threat to my Alpha,  _Sir_."

Castiel blinks. Dean has never called him that before -  _his_. And, judging from the set of his jaw and the way he refuses to drop his eyes, Dean wants to make sure Castiel realizes the distinction too.

"The men listened to you?" he asks, instead of anything else he wants to say.

Dean nods. "They - well, a lot of people are assumin', Sir. They thought I was acting under your direct order, as your mate." Dean shrugs one shoulder. "I never bothered to correct them."

Castiel smirks, unsure if the expression is impressed or amused. "You're a very daring young man," he says after a moment. "And very clever. Should I be worried, Dean?"

"I told you," the Omega replies, "I'm here to serve my Alpha, just like our  _contract_ states." He bites the word, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice. "That includes runnin' jobs for you, that you can't take care of yourself."

Castiel hums, his eyes sharp and appraising. "You reek of Alpha," Castiel says after a moment and Dean nods, unapologetic. "I don't like that. You should go make yourself more presentable."

Dean nods, stepping back after a moment when Castiel dismisses him. "Oh, and Dean," Castiel calls after him, stopping Dean by the door, "when you're finished, return here. I have some new assignments that I think you will be very suited for."

Dean smiles over his shoulder. "Suited for?" he repeats, teasing.

Castiel nods. "Yes, I think you've proven yourself more than capable," he replies, turning back and hobbling over to his desk. "And certainly loyal. Don't take too long."


	19. Brotherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi! For gangster!cas, can we maybe get something like Sam hearing about Cas's scary omega mate and Sam freakjng out and reacting without listening to what dean has to say in an attempt to save him

"Hello?"

"Dean? Are you okay? Are you alone?"

"Sam? What the hell, man? I'm  _fine_ , what's -?"

"I'm coming over. I'm literally ten minutes away, Dean."

"Sam, damn it, what's -? Fuck!"

Dean's tempted to throw the phone across the room, but he needs it for more important things that a scapegoat for his irritation, so he pockets the thing and makes his way down to his old apartment adjacent to Castiel's mansion.

The Alpha had finally improved enough to walk around without much help. His leg got tired after a few minutes of standing and he needed a cane for stairs but he was finally good enough not to need Dean's constant attention and supervision.

Dean wasn't yet sure if he liked that or not.

Castiel not needing him around as much meant that their relationship would change.  _Again_. Castiel had given him more assignments true to his word, and now he wasn't just  _the Omega_ anymore. He had a  _name_. People  _recognized him_  when he went on one of Castiel's runs. 

Half the people thought he was a mate. Another third thought he was Castiel's whore, and the rest thought that he was just ruthless and beautiful and deadly enough that it didn't matter.

Dean wanted to help people. He wanted to become a doctor. 

There were certain people he wouldn't help even on an operating table. People that the world would be better off without.

His gun was a familiar and friendly weight in the back of his jeans as he went to his old apartment to wait for Sam. Soon he heard his brother's huge footfalls bounding up the stairs and his hand pounding on the door.

"Sam, damn it, don't knock the thing down," Dean growled, yanking the door open and hauling him inside. "What's the matter with you?"

"I, I heard - the people at school, you know, they kind of talk, and at first I didn't believe it but then -." Sam ran his hand through his hair, before his hand wrapped around Dean's arm and started to pull him back out the door. "We have to leave like  _right now_."

"What? Why?" Dean argued, pulling his hand back.

"Dean,  _please_."

"Sammy! This is the safest place for me in the whole damn  _city_ ," Dean growled, stepping back. 

"This  _guy_  you're working for isn't what he seems, Dean! He has a  _mate_ , and this guy is scary. And he's in town and out for blood - that's what I heard, I -."

Dean's blood was running cold. Castiel had a  _mate_? No. That was impossible. Dean would have  _smelled_ -."

"And he took out all these guys at the docks yesterday. There's  _bodies_ Dean and once he figures out there's an Omega living in his  _mate's house_  -. Why are you laughing?"

Dean couldn't help it. "Oh my God,  _Sam_." He clutched his heart, and shook his head. "You almost had me worried for a sec, damn. Don't do that." Sam let out an irritated growl and Dean held up a hand. "Sam, jesus,  _I'm_ the Omega, alright? Cas doesn't have a mate. It's just me."

Sam's eyes widened and he gaped at Dean. "You...you're  _killing_ people?" he demanded. "What the  _fuck_ , Dean? What happened to supply runs? What happened to not being in danger?"

Dean flashes a grin, showing his teeth. "Trust me, Sammy, I'm never in danger." He said it with a cold confidence - it was true. Most of his targets didn't realize they were targets until the bullet was already in their brain. The smart ones got distracted with pheromones before they could become suspicious anyway. "And they started it - some men came in here and tried to kill me. Cas saved me, he warned me so I could fight back, and I went after them."

"You  _what_?"

"They came into my  _nest_ , Sam," Dean growled, lifting his chin. He shouldn't need to defend himself to a Goddamn Alpha. They wouldn't understand. Even Sam, well-meaning as he was, wouldn't get the sheer outrage an Omega would have over their mate and nest being attacked.

What?

No. Their  _nest_ being attacked. No mate.

"I killed before and I'll do it again if they threaten me  _or_ Cas. He's been good to me, Sam, good to  _us_."

Sam's eyes narrowed, red now, and he took a deep breath, looking around the room. "You haven't lived here for a while," he said flatly. "You told me he hadn't touched you -."

"Still hasn't," Dean replied. "I live in the house for now. I'll probably be moving back out here in a few days since he's gotten better. He was wounded but he's fine now. You don't need to worry about my fuckin' virtue or whatever the Hell you're trying to protect here."

"Dean, damn it, I'm being serious! You're - fuck, you're killing people! You're not supposed to - Omegas aren't -."

"I swear to God, Sam, if you spew some gender-purist bullshit at me I will beat your ass down right here," Dean growled, upper lip curling back. Sam's eyes widened at the threat: Dean had never been so aggressive with him before, but maybe it was about damn time. "I'm  _fine_. I  _wanted_ to do more for him, and I will keep going until my debt's repaid."

A part of him wondered if it ever would. Castiel had done more for him than Dean's own father, than any other person Dean had ever known had done for him. But he didn't say that.

Sam looked like he desperately wanted to say something, his eyes pleading. "I don't wanna lose you, Dean," he said, as close to begging as a proud Alpha would ever get. "Please. Let me get you out of here. I love you, Dean, and I want you to be safe and free to live your own life."

"This is my life," Dean replied. He wasn't angry anymore - it had left him deflated like a balloon, and he sighed and rubbed his hands across his face. "This is my life and I knew what I was getting into every step of the way."

"Dean -."

"I don't wanna lose you either, Sammy." Dean raised his eyes, his voice pleading. "Please trust me. I'm takin' care of us."

Dean had killed enough men to know what one getting shot looked like. He shook his head and sighed, his throat tight. "I don't wanna fight."

"Right," Sam replied. He sounded like he couldn't decide whether to throw a punch or cry. Then, he took a deep breath and shook his shoulders out. "You wanna...go grab lunch or something?"

Dean shouldn't. Castiel was improving but he wasn't back to top notch. There were runs to prepare for. There was a shipment coming in tomorrow night that he needed to brief everyone for.

He swallowed, and nodded his head. "Sure. But you're buyin'."


	20. Challenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if for the ganster!cas fic, dean is running late for the debriefing and gets some comments from the other alphas and dean demands submission and cas just watches
> 
> You have NO idea how much I need more gangster!Cas. Will you write some more? Maybe when Cas almost/completely healed?

 

Having dinner with Sam makes Dean late for the meeting with Castiel's higher-ups - a select group that Dean suddenly found himself involved in when he realizes his meetings stopped involving faceless rotations of men and instead people like Balthazar and Rachel and Hester.

Also, unfortunately, Uriel. Dean wouldn't go far enough to say he openly hates the man, but Uriel definitely rubs him the wrong way. Dean's always prided himself on his personal instincts and Uriel is the kind of person you'd be better off stabbing and mugging than cheating in a card game.

He's also a dick. Dean comes in flustered and hurried from practically sprinting up to the conference room, knowing he was late, stinking his Sam's Alpha scent everywhere. He could see the smirk just slowly start on Uriel's smug face as he took his seat at the other end of the table.

Unfortunately Dean's station places him right across from Uriel, between Hester and Hannah on Castiel's left side. On Hannah's other side is Balthazar, then Castiel, with Rachel on Castiel's right and Bartholomew, then Uriel.

"Get caught up in something?" Uriel says by way of greeting. Dean swallows and forces himself not to react, but he knows the scent of Alpha is all over him. He and Sam have always been touchy-feely, and he forgets sometimes that Castiel's other Alphas won't know Sam by scent alone.

He looks to Castiel, hoping that his Alpha can smell that it's Sam on him and no one else. Castiel's face is unreadable, but he doesn't look angry.

"It's personal," Dean finally bites out. "And not important to this meeting. I'm sorry I'm late." He directs the last part to Castiel, and earns a small smile for the apology.

Uriel snorts. "Personal," he repeats, and shares a knowing look with Bartholomew. "Maybe you should spread your legs on your own time."

Castiel's fingers drum on the table, once, but it looks like his attention is rapt on something Balthazar is suddenly showing him.

Dean swallows and lifts his chin, glaring over at Uriel. "Unless you think your sorry knot's gettin' anywhere near my ass, I don't think it's any of your business what I choose to do, and who, and when."

Uriel's expression twists into something dark and ugly. "You watch your tongue, boy -."

Dean grins, baring his teeth. "I've taken bigger dicks than your entire personality up my ass, Uriel. You really wanna do this now?"

Uriel keeps glaring at him, one corner of his upper lip curling up, before the tense moment is suddenly broken by Hannah's soft laughter. She's covering her mouth and trying not to make a sound, but it's loud enough that Dean looks away and winks over at her.

Castiel clears his throat, suddenly straightening and pushing himself to his feet. "Either way, Dean, thank you for joining us. Be sure you aren't late again." The reprimand is gentle and earns a small nod from Dean. "Now, shall we continue?"


	21. Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm in love with the ganster!cas verse. What if Michael steals cas for a couple of days/weeks, warning him about crossing his borders, and doesn't tell anyone he has him. This can lead to dean going all purgatory looking for his alpha.

 

"You killed Lucifer."

Castiel sighed, resting his temple against the knuckles of one hand, his elbow braced on the armrest molded into the side of the limousine seat. "You sound surprised," he said mildly. "You were the one who warned me about him."

"You weren't supposed to _kill_ -." Michael sucked in a breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose with both hands, before the cool façade swept over his face again and he rolled his shoulders, and cleared his throat.

Castiel rubbed the thumb of his other hand across his jaw, scratching the stubble growing in. "He threatened one of my men," he said quietly, his eyes darting to the side so that he could gauge Michael's reaction. "I did what I had to do."

Michael frowned. "Men are threatened all the time," he replied sternly. "It doesn't mean we make rash decisions. That's why we _have_ men, Castiel. _Expendability_."

Castiel bit his lip and swallowed hard so that he wouldn't growl at his older brother. Michael was a powerful man in another city, far away from Castiel's, and Castiel was fondest of him out of all of his siblings. Michael had taught him everything he knew and Castiel owed him respect and goodwill.

"Not this one," he replied quietly, his voice firm. "Not this man."

He could _feel_ Michael's raised eyebrow.

Finally, Castiel turned his head, straightening up so that he was no longer leaning against the car door, and regarded his brother more fully. "I've…somewhat taken someone under my wing," he said slowly, measuring each word carefully before letting it become voiced; "An investment, and he's proven more than valuable."

Michael blinked, frowning again, before he tilted his chin up and took in a small breath. It was a subtle scenting but Castiel knew exactly what Michael was doing.

"I don't…understand, Castiel," Michael said. "Have you mated yourself to a foot soldier?"

Castiel scoffed, shaking his head with a grin. "Only you would think that," he said, his voice warm with affection. "He is an Omega, and I'm sure many of my crew think we're mated, but our relationship is solely business. He has surprised me with his value, Michael, and his loyalty."

"I take it he was the one who wiped out the rest of Lucifer's men," Michael mused, sounding neither displeased nor impressed. "I've heard whispers of a rogue Omega in your city. I didn't think anything of it until now."

Castiel merely smiled at his older brother, catching the subtle note of pride in Michael's voice.

"You will have to tighten his leash, though, Castiel. If I heard of it and others know he was the one who brought the rest of Lucifer's pack down there may not be much goodwill left for you, if they know he is under your protection."

Castiel waved a hand in a dismissive gesture.

Michael made a warning noise. "I'm serious, Castiel. Omegas are delicate, and powerful. Don't think that just because he's playing for your side that he will stay that way, if he doesn't think you're giving him what he needs anymore."

Castiel nodded, sobering at the thought. The thought of Dean leaving him was not an attractive one, nor one he liked to entertain often. Still, he didn't think that Michael would be warning him about this had he ever met Dean. "I understand."

 

 

Dean was going to go crazy. He was going to rip the fucking _throats_ out of everyone who got in his way if people kept refusing to tell him where Castiel was. Goddamn it, his _Alpha_ was _missing_ and everyone seemed willing to carry on like this was normal?

In the years Dean had worked for Castiel the Alpha had never been so absent for so long, and definitely not without letting Dean know. Something must have _happened_.

His head perked up when he heard the sound of a car driving up the long driveway, and his eyes narrowed. The lights were a distinctive triangular shape, set wide apart, and when they moved to one side Dean recognized Castiel's personal car. He threw himself to his feet and raced towards the front door.

Castiel had just come through when Dean caught him. "Where the _fuck_ have you been?" he demanded, showing his teeth when the Alpha merely turned to regard him with a cool air.

"Out," he replied shortly.

"For _six days_?"

Castiel blinked at him, cocking his head to one side. "I don't understand," he said. "My absence has never troubled you before."

Dean growled at him. "There are people out for _your blood_ , _Sir_ ," he replied harshly. "And no one was telling me where you were. I didn't – I didn't know where you _were_."

He sounded pathetic, and forced himself to stop talking. His hands curled and uncurled by his sides, tense and fidgety. Castiel's eyes dropped to the motion, then back up to Dean's face. He looked thoughtful.

"Do you think I owe you updates on my location at all times?" he asked without inflection.

Dean blew out a heavy breath. "I don't think it's fair I was the only one worried. But you know what? Yeah, fuck it, no, you don't owe me – of _course_ you don't owe me – but it's what people in a _relationship_ do, _Sir_ – even in a relationship like ours."

Castiel frowned, before he nodded solemnly. Michael's words were still weighing heavily in the back of his mind, the promise that Dean might leave if Castiel didn't try to meet him halfway, didn't give him what he needed. Omegas were wired differently. Castiel knew this, though he had never been around Omegas in any large degree until Dean had stumbled into his life.

He stepped forward and rested a hand on Dean's shoulder, squeezing gently. "I apologize," he said sincerely. "I forget that…you have different needs than the rest of my men."

Dean frowned, stepping back. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Castiel blinked at him again. "You know, Dean, sometimes you are very difficult to read."

Dean gaped at him. _He_ was difficult to read? He almost wanted to laugh, but his anger won out over his surprise and he managed to keep a straight face.

"I don't want you disappearin' on me," he stated flatly, his teeth clenched. "I don't want to have to wait up and think about what might be happenin' to you because I'm not around to protect you. I want – fuck, Cas, I just want this -." He made a short, frustrated sound, and turned his face away.

"Dean -."

"I don't know what I want," Dean said quickly, looking back at his Alpha. "I just know that I was this close to rippin' the whole damn city apart to try findin' you."

A small expression flitted across Castiel's face, amused and surprised and affectionate all at once. "I understand," he said softly, reaching out to touch Dean again, this time with a warm hand flat across the side of Dean's neck. He squeezed gently.

"Okay," Dean breathed, shivering at the intimate touch.

Castiel smiled at him again, before he let his hand drop and sighed. "I'm very tired. I think I'll retire now." Dean nodded. "Have you any word on when you'll be able to move back into your apartment?"

Dean swallowed. "Uh, couple days, I guess," he said, fidgeting again. His stomach felt like it had abruptly turned into a hard knot, a heavy stone. "Do you…want me to move back? When it's ready?"

Castiel nodded. "I think that will be best," he replied. "You need your own space." Dean nodded and tried not to look like Castiel had just tightened a rope around his chest. It was getting hard to breathe, and it was _stupid_ because Dean had no reason to be feeling like this. "But by all means, keep the room you're using furnished to your liking. I…enjoy having you around, Dean."

Dean blinked, before he managed a shaky smile. Suddenly he felt warm all over. "Okay. Thank you, Alpha."


	22. Prepare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for whenever it works cause you mentioned. how about that balthazar-dean scene for the gangster!cas verse? thought i'd prompt it for whenever you want to use it :)

"What exactly will I need to do?"

Balthazar smiled, turning his hand in a silent order for Dean to turn around. Dean obeyed, his movements stiff. He felt so out of place dressed up as he was, in a suit with a price tag that he was fairly sure had a bigger price tag than his entire medical internship.

"You need to look and act the part," Balthazar replied once Dean was facing him. He gave a nod to the squirrely Beta that had been tasked with measuring and fitting Dean's clothes. "That'll do. He'll wear it out, thank you!"

They paid and then Dean followed Balthazar out of the high-class shop. There were shoes in the window with more zeroes than Dean had ever seen in his life, for  _shoes_. Ridiculous. 

At least he blended in now, with the expensive suit that fitted him perfectly, he matched Balthazar's level of poise and price. The other patrons on this street had handbags worth their weight in diamonds and the kind of dogs rich people just  _owned_ like another accessory. 

"And what part would that be?" he finally asked, digging his hands into the pockets of the suit pants. It was nice, he had to admit - a dark red that matched his eyes and made him look more tan than he was. He wasn't sure if it was Castiel's or Balthazar's idea, but it definitely hadn't been his. They were good at dressing him, at least.

"For the most part, you'll be fending off prying press questions and the overly-nosey," Balthazar replied with a smile. "Castiel has gotten tired of being asked when he's going to settle down. Of course, half the press already knows who and what he is, so really it's more of a question of what kind of Omega he would choose."

Dean's eyes widened when Balthazar turned to him. "You have to play the happy couple," he said, before rolling his eyes. "Cas, unfortunately, can't act to save his life, so it'll all be on you."

Dean swallowed. "Fake dating?" he asked, his voice hoarser than he'd wanted it to be. "Really? I've seen enough romcoms to know how this ends."

"Oh, Lord, we can only hope," Balthazar said with a wink. "If I have to see you two dance around each other for one more  _night_ I'm going to lock you both into a closet."

Dean blinked at him, momentarily shocked into stillness. "...What?" he finally asked weakly when Balthazar turned to regard him. "I - I don't -."

"It's glaringly obvious, Dean. Castiel has been my friend for a very long time, I know him well enough by now." Balthazar waved a dismissive hand. "And you seem alright enough, I suppose. You could use a bit more...grooming, but that's my personal preference." He smiled. "I think Castiel likes your rough edges."

Dean felt like he might need to lay down. Of course, he knew Castiel felt some sort of affection for him - a man simply didn't  _do_ all the things he had done if he didn't - and that it extended to lust, to desire. But to actually  _hear_ one of Castiel's closest friends and men telling him it... It was simply something he hadn't prepared himself to hear.

"That's why I took you," Balthazar added with a sly wink, "to dress you all up. You're gonna knock him onto his arse!" He clapped twice, loudly. "I can't wait to see it!"

"I...think I might need a sec," Dean protested weakly, but followed Balthazar as they continued to make their way towards the cab stand at the end of the road, where their car had been sitting, idling, while they shopped. "It's - it's complicated, Balthazar, I can't just -."

"Trust me, Dean," Balthazar said. "If you sacked up and told him what you wanted, he'd rip that contract into pieces and bend over backwards trying to give it to you." He paused for a moment, considering. "Of course, don't tell him I said that. He's still terrifying. I wouldn't want to tick him off."

"I need a drink," Dean groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

Balthazar laughed, and waved his hand as they approached the curb to draw their driver's attention. "Save it for the gala, tough guy."


	23. Pretense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ugh gangster!alpha!cas and omega!dean literally give me so many heart palpitations and feels, I'd really like to see more friendship to form between Balthazar and Dean, maybe some more pep talk for Dean? Poor baby needs some :((

"No, but for real, do we have anything I can have before I have to go downstairs?"

Dean had heard Castiel come home over an hour ago. It seemed like every atom in his body was fine-tuned to his Alpha's presence, because he knew without even checking that Castiel was in his own bedroom, next door to Dean's, and still getting ready when Balthazar came to fetch him.

Balthazar shook his head with a smile that was one part sympathy and the rest unapologetic enjoyment. "I need you in tip-top shape," he said with no small amount of glee, watching Dean shift uneasily in his new suit. "Trust me, Winchester. You'll do great."

Dean swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck lightly. He wanted to run his hands through his hair as well but Hannah had already been in to fix his hair and she'd been so meticulous about it that he was reluctant to mess up her hard work.

"Come on," Balthazar said, gesturing for Dean to follow him.

Dean knew Castiel would be out in the corridor before he even left his room to see him. He almost collided with the Alpha when he turned to follow Balthazar down the stairs.

Castiel was staring at him openly, his eyes wide like he was seeing Dean for the first time. Dean felt a blush start up on his cheeks when he heard his Alpha's exaggerated inhale, knowing Castiel was scenting him in instinctual response to seeing Dean all dressed up.

Balthazar disappeared at some point, or perhaps he simply ceased to matter, Dean couldn't tell. He was getting tunnel vision from the way Castiel was looking at him.

Eventually he cleared his throat, hands shoved deep into his pockets. "You'll catch flies with your mouth open like that," he said.

Castiel's teeth snapped together with an audible 'click'. "You look..." He swallowed, his inhale unsteady. "Well, you certainly look the part."

The corner of Dean's mouth lifted. "I look hot, Cas, you can admit it."

Castiel blinked at him, a flash of red passing behind his eyes. "I have no trouble admitting something like that, Dean." And then it was Castiel's turn to smirk as Dean's blush darkened. "Shall we?"

He held his arm out, and Dean had the presence of mind to think that that was a fucking old-fashioned gesture, before he was taking it and letting Castiel lead him down to the door.


	24. Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I need a continuation of dean and Cas at the gala in your gangster AU it's urgent
> 
> For gangster!cas, can we get dean scenting cas compulsively and lap straddling during their "act" for whatever reason you so desire?

> I need a continuation of dean and Cas at the gala in your gangster AU it's urgent

The car was the same as it always had been. Dean didn't understand why it suddenly feels so small. Sometime after settling in the car and before it started rumbling down Castiel's long driveway, Dean had let go of the Alpha's arm and now his hand sat awkwardly on the seat between them. His other hand was kneading at his slacks, unable to stay still no matter how hard he tried and no matter how hard he was trying to avoid rumpling the new material.

"You seem nervous," Castiel said after a moment, his eyes fixed on the rolling cityscape as they started to descend into it. Dean scoffed, shaking his head.  _Seemed_ was the word Castiel used, but he knew he reeked of nerves and Castiel was able to smell it.

He also knew it wasn't enough to cover up the scent of his Alpha's pheromones. Castiel was still pumping them out, no matter how cool and stoic he was attempting to be. Not for the first time, Dean found himself dying to know what exactly was going on behind his flat grey-blue eyes.

"I am," Dean finally replied, swallowing. "I've never..." He paused, before turning his head away as well. "I've never been to a gala. And I've never had to fake dating before."

Castiel made a soft, noncommittal sound. He had that look on his face like he was trying to decide whether or not to say what he was thinking.

Then, hesitantly, he said, "I have no doubt of your acting ability, Dean. You'll be fine."

Dean looked over at him curiously. He had never seen Castiel look so uncomfortable and hesitant before. He shifted in his seat, turning more so that he was facing Castiel. The Alpha met his gaze steadily, unblinking, his jaw flexed and tight.

"You know that..." Dean coughed, dropping his gaze, his face heating. He rubbed his hand across his throat, around the back of his neck, feeling the smooth, shaved skin under his fingers. Again his fingers itched to rub through his hair and it was with a great amount of willpower that he forced himself not to touch or mess it up.

His eyes lifted to Castiel's again, then down to his hand. He sighed, swallowing back what he was about to say, and instead scooted closer over the seat.

Castiel didn't exactly flinch away from his hand, but he did turn his head curiously at it, eyes narrowed.

"You know that we need to smell like each other, right?" Dean asked, his heart hammering, his hand inches from Castiel's cheek. "It'll be hard to fake it when we don't smell like each other."

A flash of red passed behind Castiel's eyes, and his nostrils flared. "Of course," he finally said stiffly, before tilting his head to one side and exposing the scruffy length of his neck for Dean to rub his scent against. Dean breathed out unsteadily, cupping Castiel's neck with the softest pressure, rubbing up his jaw, before he let go. 

He rubbed the back of his neck one more time and brushed Castiel's other side, then down the shoulders of his suit. It was a light dusting of his scent but it would have to do for now.

Then, Dean exhaled, ready to expose his neck as well for Castiel to do the same. He was caught by surprise when Castiel instead pulled him in by the back of his head, fingers tight in his hair, and forced Dean's head to one side so that he could rub his scruffy cheek against Dean's skin.

Dean was man enough to admit he whined, caught by surprise and stiff in Castiel's arms, before he relaxed abruptly, his eyes closing. Castiel's other hand cupped the other side of his neck, brushing over his jaw. Dean leaned into the touch, his breathing unsteady as Castiel thoroughly scent-marked him.

When he pulled back, Castiel's eyes were red and dark. Dean knew his own were bleeding gold in response, his mouth open.

Castiel was still touching his face, thumb rubbing over the strong line of his jaw. His other hand smoothed down Dean's hair in a small, paltry move. Dean knew he'd look like he'd been yanked in by his hair, by his  _Alpha_.

"There," Castiel murmured, sounding satisfied. "That should make things easier."

Dean swallowed, his mouth dry. He couldn't speak.

Castiel smiled, before letting him go with one last brush of his fingertips across his neck. He breathed in deeply and Dean dropped his gaze again, knowing Castiel would be able to smell the first, sweet stir of arousal in the Omega. Dean coughed, sitting back in his place and pushing himself back against the seat as much as he could, like he could just melt into it if he tried hard enough.

"My scent suits you," Castiel said after another long moment of silence. Dean didn't know what to say to that. "I think, after tonight, we should have a serious conversation about our relationship, Dean."

Dean could only nod. "Yes, Alpha."


	25. The Gala

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omggg you are KILLING me with gangster!Cas and omega!Dean. May we please have more??  
> Man Rowan, I am so obsessed with your alpha!gangster!cas verse i can’t even deal I am literally dying~  
> Hey Rowan! I just love your mobboss!cas and omega!dean fic! Could you tell us what happens at the gala?
> 
> Ok but what if when Dean and Cas go to the gala, Dean looks so bangable everyone can't help but stare and since Dean is a natural charmer he flirts with SO MANY PEOPLE and Cas gets all 'grrrr hey you're supposed to be paying attention to me!' but tries to be casual about it but colossally fails and starts a scene making Dean get all blushy~

Dean had literally walked into a room full of murderous Alphas, fresh from Heat with little to no immediate backup, and yet walking up the long staircase into the University building, he found himself thinking that he'd much rather be in the immediate threat of a firefight than continuing on.

But he was good at faking it. Omegas were charming and sweet and people ate that up like apple pie. Dean could do apple pie.

His fingers flexed next to him, fighting the urge to reach out to hold Castiel's hand. Castiel had not made any motion to initiate contact between them, but Dean could see the herd of paparazzi gathered around the entrance like smokers exiled outside and desperately trying to cling to the heat of the indoors, and he took a deep breath.

Castiel wasn't a grifter. He could lie, but pretending was harder for him. Dean would have to take the lead on this. Just like on a mission.

* * *

 

He reached out and looped his arm with Castiel's, holding tightly. The Alpha shot him a sharp look and Dean just grinned, winking at him. 

"Come on, pretend like you like me," he said, only half-joking. The photographers had just started to notice them, and Dean had to wonder what exactly kind of guests would be here to expect such an exuberant crowd of them, but he never once let the smile fall from his face.

Castiel blinked at him, before he became aware of the cameras flashing as well, and a small smile crossed his face. He allowed his other hand to fall across the back of Dean's fingers, squeezing gently.

He opened his mouth to reply, but then suddenly there were cries of 'Mister Novak!' and Dean and Castiel were fighting their way to the entrance and there was no time for serious conversation.

* * *

 

Dean could admit, he could definitely get used to this. All the food was tiny but delicious, people were dressed more snappily than he'd seen outside of a twenties gangster flick, and the entire thing was like one big hustle. People said things with daggers in their smiles and Dean had seen at least one business exchange go down right in plain sight.

He was thriving.

Castiel was...keeping up, to his credit. He wasn't exactly  _bad_ at pretending, but his movements seemed stiff. It was like he was hyper-aware of every one of Dean's actions and therefore his own. Too scared of overacting, too aware of Dean's reactions, of his own.

If Dean could just get him to  _relax_.

"Here," Dean murmured, pressing a glass of red wine into Castiel's hands. His tongue stumbled across the title, finally settling on "Alpha". Castiel blinked at him again, taking the glass. He was standing with another two Alphas that Dean had never met before - a man and a woman. The man was tall and greying on the edges, and gave Dean the vague impression of a snake about to shed its skin. The woman was pretty, her smile wide and a mass of thick blonde hair on her head.

"Dean," Castiel greeted warmly, that same half-smile crossing his face as he cradled his glass. "This is Alistair and Lilith Malach. Alistair, Lilith, this is Dean."

"Oh, he's just beautiful!" Lilith said emphatically, reaching out to tilt Dean's chin as though she was admiring a horse. Dean gritted his teeth, more surprised than anything else to reject the touch. It was over before he could react, anyway, and Castiel's expression had melted back into smooth, unreadable stone. "I can see why you like him."

"I assure you, Dean's value is far greater than purely aesthetic," Castiel said around a sip of wine, his tone slightly cold.

Alistair hummed, a smile on his face, but said nothing. Dean somehow felt dirty just by looking at him, like he'd just been caught doing something wrong. He stepped closer to Castiel's space out of instinct, his shoulders hunched up to hide his neck.

"I've heard," Lilith said, either oblivious or ignoring Dean's obvious discomfort. "We'd heard talk of a rogue Omega. Not so rogue, I assume."

Castiel pressed his lips together, shifting his weight so that a little more of his body was blocking Dean from the pair. "No," he replied evenly. Dean could  _taste_ the aggression pouring off of him, even though Alistair and Lilith didn't seem to notice. "Not so rogue."

Lilith grinned, and Alistair's smile widened. "Interesting," he said, before he turned suddenly to Lilith, catching her attention. "Would you like another drink, my love?"

Lilith agreed with a happy sound and Alistair held his arm out to her. "Until next time!" she said with a wave, before the two of them disappearing into the mass of people.

Dean exhaled heavily, averting his gaze as Castiel turned to him. "Do they make your skin crawl, too?" he asked.

Castiel sighed. "They are a necessary evil," he said, taking another drink of wine. "Thank you, for this."

Dean smiled. "How you holdin' up?"

Castiel sighed again, his eyes fixed on some point over Dean's shoulder. "This charade is exhausting," he stated plainly. Dean nodded, swallowing hard, and tried not to take that too personally. "I don't like having to lie so constantly, Dean, you have to understand. It's not..." His eyes flashed to Dean's, held until Dean had to look away. "It's not the  _idea_ I find unpleasant, you must understand."

Dean felt like his stomach was going to leap out of his throat. "Just...the pretending part?" he asked, so quietly he was sure Castiel couldn't have possibly heard him.

He was startled by Castiel's hand touching his neck, fingers curling, squeezing gently. "We'll talk after this," Castiel said seriously. "I mean what I'm saying, Dean."

"Yeah, of course," Dean replied, his mouth dry. "I, ah, I'm gonna go grab a drink, okay?"

Castiel smiled, letting his hand fall away - even though it lingered, dragging down the lapel of Dean's suit jacket, making the Omega shiver hard, full-body. "Alright, Dean."


	26. Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, what if for mafia!cas, someone (like maybe alistair) finds dean and threatens Sam and cas if he doesn't do what he asks him to do. This can lead to cas thinking Michael was right and that he failed dean some how which leads to a rather angsty reunion
> 
> Am I the only one who thinks this is a perfect time for Dean to get kidnapped, right in the middle of the gala? Protective!Cas hunting down his kidnappers and saving him sounds like fun. (Or whatever else you want to do, as I love everything you've written so far!)

The wine was sweet and way, way too easy to drink. Dean was finishing his second glass and well on his way to getting a third when he felt Alistair’s snake-like presence slink in next to him at the bar.

Dean cast him a glance out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t formally acknowledge him. He straightened, casting his awareness out into the room as best he could, sure that Lilith would not be far away. Something told him that the two of them combined together would be lethal for him right now.

“I’ve done some research on you, little one,” Alistair said. He had a way of speaking that made Dean feel like he was being talked down to and placed on a pedestal all at once. “You’re...impressive, to say the least.”

Dean swallowed, resting his hand on the bar, fingertips drumming against it once. He turned towards Alistair, knowing that it was not his place to make Castiel any enemies.

“Thank you,” he said, going for flattered. Alistair’s smile twisted up higher. “I...do what I can.”

“Oh, but we both know you can do so much  _more_ ,” Alistair replied airily, sipping at his own drink. “You’re hindered, right now, but you don’t need to be.” He looked Dean up and down. “You don’t have to sit in your pretty cage and chirp whenever Novak asks you to.”

Dean had to bite his tongue until he tasted blood to stop himself growling. “Castiel takes good care of me,” he replied defensively. “And I’m paying him back for that.”

“Ah, yes, your schooling,” Alistair said, nodding. “And taking care of your brother. Sam, right? I imagine children are expensive.” He sighed, ignoring or oblivious to the fact that Dean had gone completely stiff next to him. “That’s why I mated an Alpha. Lilith can’t conceive, thank goodness. I’m not the fatherly type.”

 _Sam, Sam, he knows about Sam._  Dean swallowed loudly, pulling his upper lip back for a brief moment before he licked his lips and schooled his expression. “You’ve been...researching a lot,” he said weakly.

Alistair chuckled. “Knowledge is my area of expertise,” he said lightly. “Young Sam - going to be a lawyer, isn’t he? That’s kind of...ironic, considering where you’ve ended up.” He chuckled. “I love it.”

Dean couldn’t stop the growl this time. “Don’t you fucking touch my brother.”

Alistair turned to him, one eyebrow raised. “I won’t,” he said. “But I think you and I, little one, I think we could reach a nice agreement that works out for everyone involved. You do me a few favors, I give you a little more freedom than Novak would provide you, and maybe nothing has to happen to your brother in the meantime.” He paused, letting the information sink in, weighing his shoulders down. “Family is a dangerous occupation, isn’t it?”

“What do you want?” Dean asked, his voice hoarse.

Alistair grinned, and set his drink down, before he curled a hand around the back of Dean’s neck. “Come with me,” he coaxed, and Dean didn’t fight him. Alistair’s hand was dry and cool but the touch had Dean shivering like he was going into shock. “And we’ll talk about it somewhere more private.”

 

 

\--

“Balthazar!”

Balthazar turned from the small group that had gathered around where they’d been listening avidly to the University director’s story of his second divorce (”Betas, right?”), blinking at his Alpha’s harried expression.

“Yes, what’s the matter?” he asked as Castiel took him by the elbow and led him away from the crowd, into a small section off of the main hall.

“I can’t find Dean,” Castiel said plainly, his words rushed. “I - I can’t find him anywhere.”

Balthazar could smell the anxiety pouring off of his friend. It made sense, he supposed - this was a strange and dangerous mix of powerful people to lose one’s unofficial mate to.

“I’m sure he’s around,” Balthazar said slowly, already reaching for his phone.

“I can’t even smell him,” Castiel said. “There’s - by the bar, he was going for a drink, and he never came back, and -.” He paused, upper lip twitching. “And those Malach bitches are gone too. I saw Lilith leaving just a second ago.” His fingers twitched and a low growl rumbled in his throat.

Balthazar nodded. “I’ll have someone tail them for the moment, Castiel. Trust me.” Castiel didn’t even look like he was listening, his red eyes too busy scanning the crowd.

“If anything happens to him, Balthazar...” he murmured darkly, and though Balthazar had never been afraid of his friend, he would be lying to say he wasn’t intimidated by whatever dark thoughts might be lingering at the end of that sentence.

“We’ll find him,” Balthazar promised. “And don’t worry too much, Castiel. Dean can take care of himself. You know that.”


	27. Cornered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ROWAN NO, WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?! I can't even deal rn, IM DYING NOTHING BAD BETTER HAPPEN TO DEAN
> 
> Gossssh Rowan, your mafia!alpha!cas verse is causin' me so much stress, is dean gonna get tortured by Alastair?? If that's the case then Cas will probably blow a gasket, I'm stoked to see where this story goes :)

Dean remembered one of his very first lectures on campus, about Omega-specific reactions to shock. There was something called rejection, that happened whenever an Alpha managed to subvert another’s claim on an Omega, causing the Omega’s body to essentially go into shock.

That was the only explanation Dean could think of for why he was shaking so badly and felt to nervous and nauseous. He had stared down an entire room of Alphas before and taken out way bigger fish than these two waify skeletal mongrels.

The fact that Dean hadn’t actually been claimed didn’t seem to matter to his body. Alistair’s hand on the back of his neck kept him docile on their way to the car and the threat to Sam managed to keep him in check the entire ride to Alistair and Lilith’s home. 

Castiel didn’t know where he was, and to Dean’s knowledge no one had seen them leave. He was fucked and well and truly without back up. The only thing that kept him relatively calm was the knowledge that he was more valuable to them alive than dead, and if push came to shove he was  _relatively_ certain he could take them both out. Even if their help killed him in the process, he was positive that Castiel would be better off with the Malachs dead.

His collar was damp with sweat and his fingers kept twitching as the car came to a halt in front of a modest house. It looked welcoming and nice, the kind of house that had fresh-baked pie on the windowsill every morning and where children would go to for sweets and stories and to play with the old hunting dog on the porch. 

There was probably a fucking nuclear missile silo in the basement or something.

Dean got out of the car when Alistair opened the door for him and allowed himself to be ushered inside. The walls were painted a bright, garish yellow and the close hallways and clutter made Dean’s skin crawl. An Omega probably hadn’t touched this house in years and it  _stank_ of Alpha, so strongly that Dean thought it might burn the back of his throat.

The dining room wasn’t much better. The only mercy was that the walls were beige and the lights did a better job of illuminating the place. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Whiskey?”

Dean shook his head. “Water’s fine,” he said. “I think I had enough at the party.”

“Of course.” Alistair smiled and Lilith disappeared, presumably to the kitchen. She returned with a glass of ice water and set it down next to a chair on a simple wooden coasted. Dean understood the order for what it was, and took his seat. Alistair sat at the head of the table, Lilith on his right, Dean on his left. “So, what exactly are you going to blackmail me into doing for you, hmm?” Dean asked, dragging his fingers across the cool surface of the glass to give his hands something to do.

Lilith huffed. “Blackmail is such an ugly word,” she said airily, taking Alistair’s hand. “I prefer ‘incense’.”

Dean’s lip twitched. “Yeah, well, you’ve  _incensed_ me pretty good. Now what do you want?”

Alistair’s smile was wide and plastic. “Don’t you just love cutting to the chase,” he said, before he sat back with a small sigh. “Well, as you no doubt know, your Master has gotten quite a hold of this city.” Dean swallowed, the word ‘Master’, somehow, settling him. He’d be riled, and Castiel would be too, usually, but Castiel wasn’t here and the acknowledgement of Dean’s loyalty, even in such a derisive way, was a small comfort. “And with you helping him on your own as well, you’ve gotten quite a name for yourself.”

“We would simply like for you to do for us what you do for him,” Lilith said with a smile. “Run a few errands, maybe take out a few of our own threats.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Can’t handle it yourself?”

“No one suspects an Omega,” Lilith replied with a wave of her free hand. “And you’ve proven effective. You will be compensated, of course.”

“In  _any_ way you’d like.”

Dean felt that cold, trickling feeling coming back. Looking at Alistair’s teeth, he was struck with the image of them sinking into the back of his neck and his entire body shuddered, his stomach rolling. He took a long drink of water to help settle his stomach.

“I don’t want anything from you,” he said hoarsely. “I want you to leave me and my family and my  _friends_ alone.”

The Alphas blinked at him, slowly. Or rather, they seemed to be moving just fine, but Dean was finding it more difficult to follow them. His vision was starting to get fuzzy around the edges.

He looked down at his water, and almost managed to roll his eyes. Rookie fucking mistake.


	28. Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alistair decides Dean needs a little more incentive.

Dean was disgusted with himself. Living with Castiel had made him soft, more trusting, less sharp. He’d have never drunk an unidentified beverage offered to him by an Alpha, let alone two of them who’d all but kidnapped him and were going to force him to kill and fight in their name under penalty of harm to his family.

The only excuse Dean could think of was the effects of subversion on his body. His mouth was still dry and his head was pounding, rough at the base of his skull as he felt himself gradually sliding towards wakefulness. His fingers flexed.

He was tied to something, made slowly aware of the bindings around his wrists as he tried to jolt and twist his hands away. The backs of his arms were pressed against something cold, and ran down his spine too - metal, a metal structure, keeping him upright.

He coughed, lifting his head, and sucked in a huge lungful of breath. It was with great effort that he managed to open his eyes, blinking dazedly and looking around.

Well, it wasn’t a nuclear missile silo, but it was close.

The words ‘torture’ and ‘sex dungeon’ spring to mind almost immediately. There were restraints, harnesses, knives on a table next to him. There were concrete floors ( _easy to hose down_ ) and a single, solitary light swinging above his head ( _hypnotic, too bright, look away_ ). 

Dean coughed, working his jaw open and cracking his dried lips apart. His fingers were shaking and his eyes were unfocused, but he managed to make out the shapes of Alistair and Lilith standing just inside of the circle of light, and sent a half-hearted growl their way.

“At least buy me dinner first,” he said hoarsely, joke falling flat.

Alistair tutted at him, grinning widely enough to show his fangs. A cold shudder ran down Dean’s spine. “I offered you wine and whiskey,” he said, as though telling Dean the weather. In his hand he held a long, serrated knife. It was the kind of knife that sawed through bone. Dean swallowed.

“So, what, now we get to the good part?” Dean demanded. His heart was racing. He’d never been tortured in his life - he’d been in danger, sure, had his life threatened, and had the crap beaten out of him at one point or another, but never actually  _tortured_. Fear curled up like a leaden snake around the top of his spine, weighing his shoulders down and making it hard to breathe.

He  _really_ hoped like fuck that Castiel had the Malachs’ address on file or something, because otherwise he was  _fucked_.

Dean clenched his jaw, bracing himself when Alistair stepped towards him. The knife shone in his hand, gleaming with promise, but Dean refused to turn his head and bare his neck when Alistair started to drag the tip up his arm, and shuddered when it dug into the side of his neck.

“We need him capable,” Lilith’s voice snapped out, a sharp reminder. “Don’t maim him, darling.”

Alistair sighed, but the blade put no more pressure on Dean’s neck. Alistair’s eyes were as red as a feral Alpha and glowed with the demand for Dean to submit. Dean met his eyes and refused to look away, even though it was a struggle to control his breathing and every part of him was shaking and demanding he submit to the two Alphas in the room.

“It’s a simple offer,” Alistair reminded him. “And an easy one to take. Why are you fighting so hard?”

Dean gritted his teeth, flinching when the knife started to etch its way down his throat, following the curl of his collarbone. It was drawing blood, he could feel it well up and drip, warm and sluggish, down his neck. “I don’t obey just any Alpha,” he replied harshly.

Alistair chuckled. “Of course. Only yours, hmm? I suppose that’s fair.” He lifted the knife away, only to let it settle on the other side of Dean’s neck. This time the teeth of the blade rested hard under the line of his jaw, angled up. Dean bite his lip to stop himself whining at the pain. “A man cannot have two masters, but I think you’ll obey Castiel, won’t you? Whatever he asks of you, you’ll do?”

Dean blinked at him, frowning. 

“How much do you think Castiel cares for you, hmm?”

Dean’s upper lip twitched, but he refused to answer.

“Do you think if I threatened your life, he’d order you to do what I ask, just to spare it? It’s a difficult choice, I suppose, to kill your Omega or whore him out.”

The knife at his throat was the only thing that kept Dean from lunging at Alistair’s throat, restraints or not. He snarled at the Alpha, his fists clenching tight.

“You may as well just kill me now,” Dean hissed. “He won’t negotiate.”

Alistair raised an eyebrow. “No,” he said, grinning, and turned the knife so that it sliced a deep line down Dean’s chest, from the top of his collarbone to just above his sternum. Dean couldn’t stop his yell of pain, or the way his body shuddered and flinched away from it. “I think you should give him more credit than that. He’ll speak with me, I’m sure of it.”

With his free hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. Dean hissed again as he felt the knife edge settle on his chest again, braced for the next cut.

“Especially if you keep screaming like that, little one.”


	29. Submission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OH MY LORD, omega!dean wednesday is almost over and we haven't gotten any more Mafia!verse? I'm heartbroken. Maybe from cas' pov, what he's doing to find dean and how he's holding up, and how maybe uriel is sabotaging Cas' dream team from finding our favorite omega?
> 
> So can you say why Alistair wants Dean to actually submit even though he already said he'd do whatever Alistair wanted? Like, does he want an omega or Is it control or is it because of Cas?

When Castiel’s phone rings out, shrill in his pocket, he almost thinks for one crazy minute that it’s Dean. It should be Dean - Castiel would rather have his Omega be reckless but ultimately safe than any of the alternatives his racing mind can concoct.

No such luck. When Castiel answers it’s to the sound of Dean screaming.

He snarls, eyes flashing red immediately. Balthazar is on the street next to him, walking along and keeping his eyes and ears open and tuned in to their agents as they try to find Dean, and simultaneously watching Castiel’s back while he’s on the phone.

“Hello, Angel.” Alistair’s voice comes through like a purr. Castiel can hear Dean panting. “I can tell I have your attention.”

“If you’ve harmed him -.” Castiel can’t even finish the threat. His rage clogs up his throat and it’s like he’ll choke on it if he tries to speak. How  _dare_ this weakling  _wretch_  take his mate. How  _dare_  he.

“Cas,” Dean says, barely audible. “Hang up. Just - just hang up.”

“You be quiet now,” Alistair says, his voice soothing and quiet. It’s how Alphas are supposed to speak to Omegas, but Castiel hears Dean snarl in answer, and the rage is momentarily quelled by a flash of fierce, bright pride for Dean’s strength. “It seems like your precious Omega going to make this more difficult than it has any right to be. So, Castiel, it’s all on you.”

Castiel hisses, “What do you want?”

“I simply want Dean at my disposal, to do me some favors in exchange for his family’s safety. Nothing more, nothing  _unsavory_ , I assure you,” Alistair says, voice thick with distaste. Castiel knows Alistair is an old-fashioned soul at heart, and thinks of Omegas as weak, as tools. He’d never touch one like an equal.

“And I assume Dean is not amenable to being bartered for like meat,” Castiel says.

“A man cannot have two masters,” Alistair says, his voice too gentle like he’s acknowledging the words of a child. It makes Castiel’s skin crawl. “So, this can all be over very quickly. Order him to obey me, and he’ll be returned safely, and we can put this whole mess behind us.”

Castiel knows the minute he’s silent for too long, because Dean grunts and makes a sound like he’s trying very hard not to scream again.

“Fuck you,” Castiel whispers, his voice low and angry.

“Cas, just hang up,” Dean says, his words cracking. “I - I trust you. Just hang up.  _Please_.”

Beside Castiel, Balthazar picks up his phone as well. His words are a low buzz in Castiel’s ear but then suddenly Balthazar is looking at him, eyes urgent and red.

“We set up a trace,” he mouths. “Keep them talking.”

Castiel’s fingers go white around his phone when Dean screams again. He wishes he could throw the damn thing away. The sound of Dean screaming will be seared into his memory for the rest of his life, he’s sure of it. 

He had promised that Dean would be kept safe, and Dean said he trusted Castiel, but obviously not enough to protect his brother when Sam was threatened. Not for the first time Castiel cursed his own reticence and secrecy. If he’d been more  _open_ , been more allowing for Dean to know his plans and where his influence was, Dean would have never gone with Alistair.

 He was going to spend a long, long time earning Dean’s forgiveness. 

“Dean,” Castiel says, his voice hard. Dean whined. Castiel could imagine him, teeth gritted, eyes clenched tightly shut like he does when he’s in pain. He’s fighting the Alpha Voice with all of his might. “Do what Alistair asks of you. You will serve him as you would me.”

“Cas,” Dean whispers, angry and broken, “No.”

“Dean, you  _will_ obey me,” Castiel snaps. Balthazar, next to him, is tapping away at the side of his cheek and making an encouraging motion. “You will listen to Alistair’s demands and then you will relay them to me, but you will obey and do what he asks of you.”

When Dean answers, his breathing his heavy and his voice is rough with anger. Castiel closes his eyes. “Yes,  _Alpha_ ,” Dean snarls, his words thick with rage.

Balthazar gives him a thumbs up and Castiel snaps his phone shut. He barely resists the urge to fling it into moving traffic.

“Please tell me you found him,” he says, running his hands through his hair.

Balthazar nods. “One of the Malachs’ safehouses, Castiel. Come on, we’ve got to get moving.”


	30. Build-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know you're not gonna be writing for a while (stress and all) but when you do gangster verse, Alastair teasing Dean telling him what he's gonna make him do and testing out his alpha voice before cas busts in

Dean doesn’t remember feeling any kind of rage like this before. There’s been protective anger, sure, righteous indignation, but never this kind of searing, focused  _hate_.

He lifts his eyes and hopes, for one split second, that his gaze might burn a hole in Alistair’s forehead. No such luck.

Alistair grins, pocketing his phone with a sigh. “Well, we got there in the end,” he says, and Dean watches as Alistair sets the knife down as well, tinged red with Dean’s blood. Castiel will flip when he smells it.

The thought makes Dean’s lip twitch into a brief, feral smile.

“I guess I’m all yours, now,” he says, surprised at how calmly he’s able to speak. Alistair comes forward, his long fingers nimbly loosening Dean’s restraints. One of Dean’s hands comes free easily, then the other, and he rubs his wrists and steps away from the metal cross that had held him in place.

His neck hurts, and the cut burns hotly where it is under his ripped shirt, the line of blood starting to stain down to his belly. He runs his fingers through it and clenches his fist.

“That was a lot harder than it needed to be,” Alistair said, as though reminding him. Sharp, red eyes look Dean over. “You’re not going to attack us now, are you?”

Dean grins again - that sharp and feral thing. “Oh,  _please_ , order me to. Make my fucking day.”

At that, Lilith cracks a laugh, and when Dean looks at her she has one hand covering her red mouth, her eyes bright with amusement. “Oh, he’s so angry, darling, look at him! It would be almost cruel to send him back to his mate like this.”

Dean straightens up and forces his hand to move away from his wounds. Stretching up to his full height pulls on his skin and he fights the urge to hiss, swallowing back the sound of pain he wants to let out.

“So,” he finally says, the word heavy. “What exactly is it you want me to do, hmm?”

Alistair smiles at him. “Come here,” he says, holding out an arm. Dean swallows, his head dipping as he looks at Alistair’s outstretched hand. Subversion is making his head fuzzy, and even though he resists, the push of Castiel’s orders forces him to obey Alistair’s Alpha Voice, and he shuffles over slowly so that Alistair can wrap an arm around his shoulders, guiding him away from the light and out of the basement. “Let’s talk business.”

\--

“So,” Castiel says, his voice heavy with disdain, “this is what a safehouse is supposed to look like nowadays.”

“The Malachs are significantly lower-budget than us,” Balthazar replies with a similarly unimpressed tone. “We can’t all have five-star mansions, Sir.”

Castiel smirks at his friend. “More’s the pity,” he says. “Do we...do we have any eyes on Dean? Or the Malachs?”

Balthazar lifts his phone and dials a number, holding it to his ear for a brief moment. “Update me, love,” he says to someone over the phone (Castiel assumes it is Hannah or Rachel, since those are the two field agents who work closest with Castiel and Balthazar). Then, he snaps his phone shut. “We have eyes all around the house. Inias says he spotted Dean and the Malachs in their dining room, and Samandriel has confirmed. We’re just waiting for everyone to move in for the ambush.”

“Get me eyes in there,” Castiel orders, sitting back in his car seat as balthazar pulls out a tablet, drawing on feeds from both Inias and Samandriel until he’s greeted with the sight of Dean’s back, bent over a small wooden table. Alistair is sitting next to him, Lilith on the other side of the table, and (Castiel barely resists the urge to snarl), Alistair is bent close to Dean, his arm over the Omega’s shoulder.

Castiel growls, failing to hide the venom in his voice. Balthazar huffs, his mouth twisted into an unhappy line, a frown on his face. Hesitantly, after a moment, Balthazar reaches out and settles a calming hand on Castiel's shoulder.

"You did order him to play nice," he reminds Castiel.

"So that we could get a trace," Castiel snaps back. "I do not want that  _filth_ touching Dean a second longer than absolutely necessary."

"Understood," Balthazar says. "You going in yourself?"

Castiel nods, not even hesitating. "I owe him that," he says, and shuffles to the edge of the car, ready to move on the signal. "I got Dean into this mess and I will pull him out of it. Besides, I will have a lot of explaining to do."

"He might not want to see you, boss."

Castiel nods. "I honestly expect as much," he admits. "But I'm not going anywhere, and I will explain what I can, and when Dean is ready to hear the rest I will explain that too. But for now, I just need to make sure he's okay. Physically, at least."

"Fucking with an Omega's emotional bonds can have bad effects, Castiel," Balthazar says. "He's shaking."

Castiel closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. His fingers curl along the edge of the door handle and hold on tightly.

\--

"You see, Omegas…just aren't wired like Alphas are."

Alistair keeps using that soft, soothing tone on him. If Dean were able to he'd sock the asshole right in his fucking mouth, fangs and all.

Alistair reaches out and pulls over a glass of wine. It has Lilith's lipstick mark on the side. "Drink it," he orders, his voice heavy and thick on Dean's shoulders. It feels like Dean's on autopilot when he reaches out and downs the entire glass in one smooth motion.

The wine tastes old and sour, but he drinks it without complaint. When he's gone, he squeezes the glass so hard that the stem cracks, and shoves it to one side.

Lilith tuts and shakes her head, blonde curls bouncing. "That wasn't very nice, Dean," she says, folding her hands under her chin and grinning at him.

Alistair nods. "You should apologize," he says.

"S-sorry." Dean finds the word slipping out before he can stop it. A shudder runs through his entire body and he wants to bite his tongue off so that he can't speak anymore. "S-sorry. I –  _fuck._ "

"It seems to be working very well," Lilith says with a bright smile. "Oh, this is so excellent. I'm so proud of you, darling."

Alistair grins at her. "Yes. Michael won't know what hit him."

Wait,  _Michael?_

Dean looks up, the question half-formed, and that's when all Hell breaks loose.


	31. Recoil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, mafia!verse is on such a cliffhanger! Could we get more for that? It seems like Dean would be angry like hell at Cas when he finally gets to wherever Alistair and Lilith have Dean, so maybe there could be a not so happy rescue? Cas would be going over-drive with protectiveness and probably scenting and the whole works, while Dean's probably feeling betrayed but also anxious to get rid off Alistair's influence.

Admittedly, Dean’s not entirely sure what happens. One moment Alistair and Lilith are staring him down, the next Alistair’s body is flat on the table, blood running between his eyes, and Lilith has been thrown to the ground and taken out too. Dean can see Castiel, and he can smell Balthazar. There are probably others, casing the house, making sure there are no more threats to Castiel or his pack.

“Dean.”

“Don’t touch me,” Dean growls. He can feel the heat of Castiel’s presence behind him.

He's sure Castiel means to touch him, to turn him around and look him over and press his nose to Dean's neck to make sure he's okay.

He doesn't want that.

Dean's fingers curl into fists and he pushes himself up from the table, stepping as far away from Alistair's corpse as he can. "They were planning a hit on Michael," he says, staring at some point of the off-yellow wall by Castiel's head. Castiel's eyes are glowing and red, and Dean's sure he's completely Alpha'd-out in preparation for the fight, but there's no need.

There was no fight. Alistair and Lilith and gone and Dean's head is totally fucked because he can  _feel_ Castiel trying to cow him into submission and his throat tastes sour from resisting Alistair's orders and Castiel  _betrayed him_.

"Dean," Castiel says again, and Dean's eyes snap to him without his consent because Castiel is his  _Alpha_ and that's what an Omega's body  _does_. It just obeys.

Dean stares him down, jaw clenching. Castiel's fingers twitch by his side, tight around his gun. "Are you alright?" he asks, blowing the question out on an exhale like it's a terrible inconvenience for him to ask.

Dean's upper lip curls back and Castiel's eyes narrow. " _No_ , you asshole, I'm  _not_ ," he hisses. "I can't believe -."

Now is not the fucking time. He clenches his jaw, breathes out through his nose, and looks away.

"That phone call was the only way we knew to find you," Balthazar says, quietly. Dean nods his head, just once. "We had to keep Alistair talking."

Dean makes a noncommittal noise, breathing deeply again. His chest hurts and his neck stings.

"I probably need Joshua to look me over," he says, gesturing to himself. "I don't want this shit to get infected and I might need stitches or something."

"Of course," Castiel says emphatically. "I'll take care of it immediately."

Dean nods. "Okay. Can I leave now?"

He doesn't need to ask. As soon as the words leave his mouth he bites the side of his tongue because why the fuck did he even ask? He's allowed to come and go as he pleases – always has been.

His neck stings and the inside of his throat burns. He swallows and finds himself whining when Castiel doesn't say a word.

Castiel blinks at him, Alpha red disappearing in a blink. "Of course," he says, carefully, slowly, a furrow between his brows. Dean shifts his weight anxiously. "I will make a call to Joshua and tell him to expect you. Inias will be outside the house with a car that will take you to the house." A pause. "Is that satisfactory?"

 _No_. Dean swallows, and nods. "Will you be home soon?" he asks.

"Would you like me to be?" Castiel answers, head cocked.

Dean swallows again, nods again. He feels like a puppet, his strings attached to Castiel's gun-wielding hand. "No," he says, unsure. "I feel fucking sick."

"I'm sorry," Castiel says as Dean shoulders his way out of the room. "Dean, I'm -."

"They're planning on hitting Michael," Dean calls. "They were going to use me against Michael. I don't know how. But – but I gotta let you know that. You need to know that."

 _Report to the Alpha be a good Omega obey obey obey_  -.

Dean throws himself into the car, shuddering, pulling his hands close to his body and rubbing them up and down his thighs. He did okay – he knows he did. He stayed strong, he was good, he obeyed and reported and -.

He shakes his head, turning his face away as Inias starts to drive. It doesn't fucking matter. He doesn't owe Castiel  _shit_. He doesn't -.

 

 --

Balthazar casts a worried glance Castiel's way. The Alpha is staring at Alistair's still back, frowning.

"That was…odd," he hazards.

"That was bad," Castiel says, lifting his eyes, before he closes them with a heavy sigh. "Oh,  _Dean_."


	32. Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the abo!gang verse, how far does Alastair's torture go? I know he'll be careful not do do anything too damaging physically, so that Dean can still 'work', but what about mentally? Is he messing with Dean's head just like he is with his body with his alpha voice or something, and what long term effects would this have on Dean after he's rescued (PTSD, panic attacks, anger attacks, depression etc.) I really love this verse and am so excited to read what happens next...

Dean moves back into his separate apartment without a word. He almost wants to call Sam and move out altogether, but Sam doesn’t need to know all the gory details of what exactly happened, why Dean has bandages on his chest, and what the fuck is happening with his brother.

His hands haven’t been still for a moment. They literally cannot stop trembling. Dean knows what this is - he’s studied it. He has no idea what to do about it. Subversion, Repulsion, Rejection, it’s all...it’s all chemicals. It’s all science. Normally the prescribed cure is the isolate the Omega with their mate until their hormones settle again.

Dean doesn’t have that option.

Does he?

 _No_.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he growls, rubbing his hands through his hair. He finds himself lost, stranded, without direction or wind to guide him on the open water. Castiel  _lied_ to him. Castiel  _betrayed_ him and made him suffer for -.

For what?

 _Dean_  chose to go with Alistair. Dean chose to place his faith in himself rather than his Alpha when it came to protecting his brother, because apparently Dean can’t fucking think straight when it comes to Sam  _or_ Castiel.

“Fuck,” he says again, whining behind his teeth.

Castiel has taken good care of him - always. He’s done more for Dean than Dean will ever be able to repay him for. He  _owes_ him -.

_You don’t owe him shit._

Obey.

Forgive?

A knock on his door startles Dean out of his thoughts. It’s not Castiel. Castiel is assured and self-centered and doesn’t knock quietly, or timidly. “Who is it?” Dean calls, voice rough.

“Joshua,” the Beta replies.

Dean sighs. “Come on it.”

Joshua enters, his black leather medical bag in hand, a smile on his face. “I need to check on the bandages,” he says gently. Dean nods, shrugging off his shirt, and sits down on one of the comfortable chairs in the main room.

“You’re healing up well,” Joshua says as he peels the bandages back.

Dean manages a smile. “Well, you’re an artist,” he says, which is true. The cuts might not even scar, Joshua stitched them together so tightly.

The Beta smiles. “Only the best,” he says. The rest of the sentence goes on, unheard, loud and hell;  _For the Alpha’s mate_. Dean has earned the best for his reputation and his prowess and his skills but he owes all of that to Castiel, to his leader - his Alpha, his -.

Mate?

 _No_.

“I’m - I think I’m Subverting,” Dean whispers once antibiotic ointment has been reapplied and new bandages placed on his chest. “I feel...off. I feel like I can’t do anything, like there’s nothing to do - I -.”

 _I ache_.

God, does he ache. He needs a mission, a focus, an  _Alpha._

Joshua gives him a look. “I think you are, too,” he says after a moment. “But I believe you know as well as I do the treatments for that.”

Dean nods, fists clenching. “I’m  _angry_ ,” he growls. “I’m - I’m fucking  _furious_.”

“At what?”

“Who the fuck knows?” Dean hisses, clenching his fist and turned his face away in a dismissive gesture. “Him. Alistair. Myself. Does it matter?”

Joshua nods, pursing his lips. “Would you like me to call for him?” he asks, voice gentle.

Dean blows out a breath, shoving himself out of the chair and shrugging his shirt back on. The action pulls at his shoulder and his chest, making him hiss, but it only fuels the tamped rage in his belly.

“If he’ll come,” he says. He doesn’t want to be around Castiel. He has no idea what he’s going to say - maybe this is what he needs, though. Maybe he needs to fight, to feel the blood red of the Earth their species crawled from and taste the wounds on his tongue and  _fight_ it out. Castiel is his Alpha, has always been, and he’ll prove it if he wants Dean to stick around for long.

Joshua nods, once. “I will see when he is available,” he says calmly, either ignoring or oblivious to Dean’s anger. He packs up his bag and takes his leave, leaving Dean alone in his apartment.

Dean wants to pace, to roar like the caged lion he is. His eyes are golden, he can feel them burning, but he will  _not_ submit. He will  _not_ be cowed.

He snarls to himself, slamming the door shut to his bedroom, to the outside, to the guest bathroom. Every open door gets shut until the air turns stale and quiet and it’s just him, pacing, his brain clouded and barrelling through fog.

_Obey._

_Fight_.

Another knock comes to his door, hard and solid and  _sure_  and Dean bares his canines, grins,  _knows_  it’s Castiel on the other side.

“Come in,” he calls, voice hard and jagged as glass. When Castiel opens the door, it’ll be just them in their arena.


	33. Subvertion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey rowan, i hope you are doing good! i really love your gang verse, how will tensions with castiel and dean be once he rescues him? i can imagine dean is gonna be really mad and cagey around castiel now, i wonder how castiel is going to react to that though. will he begin to open up more with dean and have a more hands on approach of keeping him safe or will it take dean going off on him or having a meltdown for him to realize that they need to communicate better?

The door opens quietly, but when it shuts it feels like an explosion has gone off. Dean stops his pacing, turned to face his Alpha, shoulders drawn in and entire body poised to leap.

Castiel regards him the same, cool way he always has, though Dean does notice the reddish tint in his eyes in response to the gold burning in Dean’s.

“Hello, Dean,” he says, sounding neither happy nor angry nor sad. 

Dean snorts, turns his face away, snaps it back when he realizes he’s exposing his neck. “I didn’t think you’d come,” he says, his voice soft despite the roiling anger stuck in his throat.

Castiel blinks at him, frowning. “Of course I would,” he says. “I always come when you call.”

Dean’s lip twitches, curling back. “Oh, how  _noble_ , how  _obedient_ of you,” he hisses, stepping forward. His fingers twitch from a fist, fold in again. Castiel doesn’t even look away from him, eye contact strong, held, electric. “You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you,  _Sir_?”

Castiel’s frown deepens, his eyes darkening to a deeper red. He can see the threat in Dean’s shoulders, the anger in his eyes. “Within reason,” he says. Then, “How are you feeling?”

“ _Angry_ ,” Dean says.

Castiel nods, his eyes dipping down for just a moment. “I figured you would be.”

“I’m all fucked up now.” Dean growls, “How could you do that to me? It’s  _your_ fault.”

Castiel’s eyes snap to his again, narrowed and red. “I’m not the one who went off with a hostile enemy and allowed himself to be cowed by  _threats_. You should know better than to think I would let anything happen to you,  _or Sam_ , just because some backwoods mongrel said so.” Y

“Ah, but you  _did_.” Dean lifts a finger, jabs it into Castiel’s chest. The Alpha doesn’t even move. “One phone call and you  _fucked me_ , Castiel. I can’t -.”

Castiel isn’t looking at his face anymore, but his hands. They’re shaking so badly, Dean flinches, pushes them into his pockets.

Dean turns his face away, backs off, giving them both space. “I don’t know what to do,” he says softly. “I don’t know how to feel.”

“I’m not going to tell you that,” Castiel replies. “You’re still my -. You’re still  _you_ , Dean. I don’t want that to change.” He pauses, heaving his shoulders in a heavy sigh. “I would like to help you.”

Subverting.  _Isolation_. Dean snarls, shoulders rolling, hands clenching into fists inside the pockets of his jeans.

“I did everything I could to get to you, Dean.”

“Yeah, I know, the ends justify the means,” Dean says, shaking his head. “That doesn’t - is that what I am to you? Some  _end_ , some disposable -?”

“ _No_ ,” Castiel snarls, making Dean turn around and blink at him, shocked at the vehemence. “If it had been  _any_ other soldier in there, Dean, my actions would have differed greatly. You have no  _idea_ the concessions I am willing to make because of you.” He steps forward. “If any other soldier had done a mission without me, if any of them had done  _half_ the things you had, I would have -.”

“What? Killed them?” Dean says, challenging, lifting his chin. “So just because you want to fuck me, you’re making  _concessions?_ How fucking  _nice_ of you,” he scoffs.

Castiel’s growl is something he felt more than he heard. It rumbles in his chest, and Dean finds himself shutting his mouth with an audible ‘click’.

“I am trying,” Castiel begins, measured and very slow, “to be understanding, because of your current condition, Dean, but my patience only extends so far.” He lifts his head as well, and Dean finds himself ducking his own, instinctively cowed by the Alpha’s threatening posture.

“I wanted to discuss our relationship with you before. You know this. Circumstances have not been on our side, but I believe I have been nothing but fair and respectful of you  _and_ our contract.”

Dean huffs, turning his face away again.

“Dean -.”

“Don’t touch me,” Dean hisses, lifting his hand to bat Castiel’s arm away. “...Please. Please don’t touch me.”

Slowly, Castiel pulls his hands away, letting it hang limp by his side again. “Alright,” he says, his voice noticeably softer now. Then, “Joshua told me you believe you’re Subverting. We’re both inclined to think you might be right. I’m willing to stay, if you’ll have me, as much as I can until you’re stable.”

 _‘If you’ll have me?’_ Dean means to repeat it back, scathing, but instead he says; “I don’t know what to do,” in a trembling voice.

Castiel pauses, sighing. When he blinks his eyes are a lot bluer than before. “I would like to stay. I want to make sure you’re alright.”

“This is  _your_ fault,” Dean says.

“Then let me fix my wrongs. I know I’ve wronged you, Dean. I’d like to try and make it up to you.”

Dean sighs again, his whole body falling into the motion. He’s so tired, his body crashing hard from the adrenaline, the worry, the anger.

“I’m going to my room for a minute,” he says, heading in that direction.

“I’ll be here.”

Castiel waits until the door closes behind him before he sighs, letting out his breath roughly, and rubs his fingers into the corners of his eyes. He practically collapses into one of the chairs, and runs his hands through his hair until they settle on the back of his head.

“ _Fuck_.”


	34. Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More! \o/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the people expressing their concern YES I know it's not 'Subvertion/Subverting' it's capitalized and misspelled because it's a specific thing to the 'verse thank you carry on.

Dean snaps awake to the sound of his bedroom door closing. He sits up, hand reaching for his weapon, only to go still when he realizes it’s Castiel in his room and not some nameless intruder.

“What are you doing in here?” he asks, his voice hoarse, like he’s been shouting.

“You were calling my name,” Castiel replies. His eyes flash to Dean’s rumpled sheets, his messy hair. “I realize now that you must have been sleeping. Forgive me.”

Dean snorts, shaking his head, and slings his legs over until his feet are resting on the floor. “It’s not that easy,” he says. He’d gone to sleep still wearing his jeans and his t-shirt, and the material is clinging and twisting uncomfortably. He stands, stretching until his clothes settle better on his body.

Castiel has stopped, one hand on the door, before he lets go and turns back to face Dean. “What isn’t that easy?”

“Any of this.” Dean runs both hands through his hair. They’re shaking less, now, but he still feels caught between the need to fight and the instinct to run, run as far and fast away as he can and fall to his knees at Castiel’s side at the same time. “I just don’t - why can’t you ever be straight with me? Why do you always...?”

Castiel sighs through his nose, this sad look on his face until Dean looks up and he forces his expression to cool again. “I was on the phone with Michael, while you slept.” Dean blinks at him. “My older brother, who raised me.”

“Right. King Mafioso,” Dean replies. At his sarcasm, Castiel manages a tiny smile.

“He told me, a while ago, that I should take care to make sure all of your needs are met,” Castiel says. “Because you are important to me, and Omegas are - are wired differently, I suppose.” He pauses, lifts his eyes to the ceiling for a moment, and sucks in a breath. The next words rush out, like he has to get it out now or he never will; “I have always been more invested in your well-being than I should. I have always been willing to look the other way or go out of my own way to make sure you can handle yourself, that you are taken care of. You’re...very dear to me, Dean.”

“You let me be tortured,” Dean whispers. He has to sit back down on the bed; his head is spinning. 

“I robbed you of your own closure. It’s not the first time. I’m sorry.”

Dean frowns. “Not the first time?”

Castiel’s throat clicks when he swallows. “That Alpha who forced himself on you - I brought him in while we were having dinner and I killed him because you didn’t want to. I didn’t even -.” He sighs, shaking his head. “That man was already dead as soon as I found out. There was no other option. People who -” he growls the word “ _threaten_  you find themselves with a significantly shorter lifespan that they thought.”

“You’re very protective,” Dean says, his eyes on the ground. “I know. That’s - Vic told me about that, before he even said I should meet you.”

It takes Castiel a moment to think about it. Ah, yes. Officer Henricksen. Too big a heart for his job, too dirty in his job for his conscience. Rescuing one wayward soul at a time.

“I owe him tremendously for that,” Castiel says, so quietly Dean can barely hear. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it now, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t answer. He can’t. His mouth is too dry.

“You only wanted to help people - I can make sure that still happens, of course. But I feel like I’ve robbed you of your - your  _soul_.”

“My soul?” Dean repeated, scoffing. “I’m not too worried about that.”

Castiel takes a step forward, one hand reaching out, only to fall away when Dean flinches from it. Castiel’s proximity helps, because his stupid body is too desperate for the call of its mate to stay angry, and he’s clinging to the dregs of his betrayal and anger as best he can. He’s  _allowed,_  damn it.

“Dean -.”

“What even were you going to say to me?” Dean asks, lifting his head and forcing his eyes to meet Castiel’s. “After the gala, after everything. We were going to talk. What would you have even said?”

There’s too much emotion in his voice and he knows it. He knows he has too much riding on this. Damn it, he’s  _attached_  and he  _wants_  and he’s not even sure if it counts as real love but -.

Castiel breathes out. He has the same firmness and sureness when he’s making a death threat, but it’s frantic, it’s  _pained_. “I don’t want you to be here because of a contract, Dean,” he says, the words strained, hoarse, desperate. “I don’t want to have to - to hide parts of what I am or who I am around you. I want you to know it all,  _have_ it all, and I want to be the one who gives you everything.”

Dean had wondered how this kind of conversation might go. He’d never thought it would happen, and now that it is happening, his throat is too tight to speak. Castiel’s eyes are clear, blue and earnest. He swallows.

“I want to give you everything,” he says again. “I just need to know that you want it, too. I find you very hard to read.”

At that, Dean lets out a breathless, almost hysterical laugh. “The feeling’s, ah, mutual,” he says. Castiel’s expression doesn’t change, though his shoulders do stiffen. “I mean - I mean about all of it, Sir - Cas?  _Fuck_.” 

Castiel smiles faintly. “You can call me whatever you wish, Dean,” he says, eyes bright with humor. “Another concession I’ve made on your part.”

“I’m still angry,” Dean says when Castiel takes another step forward. He doesn’t flinch this time, though. “I’m gonna need - need time, for my brain to stop freaking the fuck out.”

Castiel is already nodding. “Of course. I just didn’t - I don’t want you to think you’re just a means to an end, or that you are anything less than one of the most important parts of my life.”

Dean manages a smile, looking down again. Castiel has taken a seat at the end of his bed, a respectful distance away, and Dean reaches out to grab his hand.

“Are you going to stay?” he asks.

Castiel nods, smiling again. “For as long as you need.”


	35. Hindsight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AAAHHHHH THE LATEST CHAPTER OF INTO THE FRAY AAAAAAAHHHHH OHMYGOSH I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT!!!!!!  
> I'd love more mafia verse, pretty please!

“They were going to go after Michael.”

Castiel’s head snaps up, eyes wide. “ _What_?” he asks.

Dean shakes his head, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Alistair and - and Lilith. Right before you busted in they were talking about Michael, saying he wouldn’t know what hit him.”

He feels more than hears Castiel’s growl. It suddenly feels like he’s in a cage with a hungry tiger. “I think it might have had something to do with them fucking with my head,” he continues, slowly. Castiel is still seated but the corner of his jaw keeps pulsing out, and Dean winces when his grinding teeth squeak together. “I don’t know, maybe they thought they could brainwash me into -.”

“Michael has always had a soft spot for a pretty face,” Castiel says, without inflection. He pushes himself to his feet, face turned away.

“Wow, okay, will try not to get offended by that,” Dean mutters, rolling his eyes. He is  _much_ more than a pretty face, fuck you very much. “So, what? Brainwash Omegas into seducing and killing Michael? What kind of bullshit plan is that?”

“The kind that has worked before,” Castiel replies, his expression unreadable when he looks back at Dean. “After all, Lucifer fell for it. And I’ll admit, if you were an undercover or double agent, I’d be just as prey to...”

Dean swallows, and Castiel makes a vague gesture in his direction. “I didn’t meant to imply you might be a double agent sent to kill me, Dean. I trust Henricksen and Balthazar would have certainly sniffed you out by now if you were.”

“Um...good.” Dean takes a deep breath, his heartbeat in his throat. Even with their recent conversation, he doesn’t doubt that if Castiel thought him a traitor he’d kill him and Sam without a second thought. Castiel is that kind of man - practical, ruthless. Dean has no illusions about that. “So what’s the plan?”

Castiel heaves a breath through his nose. His eyes drag up and down Dean, slow and steel grey, before he meets the Omega’s eyes again.

“Do you think you’re capable of travel?”

Dean bites his lower lip. “Probably,” he says. They both ignore the  _if you’re with me_.

The corner of Castiel’s lip quirks up. “Good,” he says. “Then you need to grab your go-bag. We’re going to Chicago.”


	36. Leave of Absence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hate to ask this since I don't want to make you feel pressured or anything, but if you're accepting prompts/writing again, would you be able to update Into the Fray? The slow burn of both the plot and the romance is killing me (in a good way) and I would love to find out what happens next!

“Woah, wait,  _Chicago?”_ Dean asks. It takes a moment for his brain to catch up. By that point Castiel has already grabbed his go-bags stashed behind the door and dropped them on one of the plush leather chairs.

He steps forward, placing his hands over Castiel’s to stop their movements. The Alpha’s eyes flash up, wild and blue, and Dean momentarily forgets what exactly he was protesting.

He clears his throat, pulls his hands away. His palms feel like they’re tingling, his body aching for the proximity of his Alpha. “You can’t just leave,” he says softly as Castiel straightens. “And we -  _both of us_ can’t just go.”

Castiel tilts his head to one side. “Balthazar is more than capable of holding down the fort in our absence,” he says, his tone soothing and, to Dean’s sensitive psyche, a little condescending. “I can brief him on the ride to the airport.”

“But what does that say if you just waltz off to Michael’s city right after an attack on your - on me?” Dean asks. “After one attempt has already been made on your  _house_. You’re -.” He sighs, rubbing his hands through his hair. “You’re being reckless.”

Castiel huffs a short, impatient breath. “Then how would you suggest I proceed?” he asks. “I can’t leave you behind, and I can’t stay either. We  _must_ go.”

“Can’t you just make a call?” Dean asks weakly. “Weren’t you just on the phone with him?”

Castiel sighs through his nose, looking off to one side, then back to Dean. “Dean,” he says, quietly, “I understand if you’re afraid -.”

“ _Fuck_  that,” Dean hisses, jabbing a finger in Castiel’s direction. He doesn’t make content, not quite, but he imagines he can feel Castiel’s heat and he  _wants_ to touch, so badly, especially now that he knows Castiel wants him back. “I’m not - don’t fucking  _try_ that shit. It’s not about that.”

“Then what?” Castiel challenges.

“You’re not thinking straight!”

“And you’re the poster child for rational thinking.”

Dean growls, rolling his shoulders and pulling his fingers into a fist, then releasing them. Now would  _not_ be a good time to punch his boss-and-Alpha. “You’re going to leave,” he says, “just as we’ve taken the second hit in less than three months,  _and_ you’re going there with the biggest target on your back to  _Michael_ who God-even-knows how many people want to kill, and -?” Dean turns his head away, breathes out. “How am I supposed to be  _helpful_ like this?”

At once, Castiel’s face softens. It’s a subtle change, but Dean can sense it in the air; the hostility melting away to concern. “Dean, I -.” He sighs, looking down, shaking his head. “I don’t expect you to have to  _help_  me, like -.” Dean looks up when he feels Castiel’s hands take his, warm and callused from many years holding weapons. Dean shivers, biting his lower lip, and raises his eyes. “I just want to make sure you’re safe, and I truly believe that you are safest when you are with me.”

“I’m not worried about my safety,” Dean says. 

“I know.” Castiel squeezes his hands, a small smile flitting across his face. “But Michael is my brother, and he’s in danger.” His eyes are searching, pleading. “Would you do any less if Sam were in danger?”

Dean at least manages to laugh, pulling his hands away. It feels like his skin is stinging, so cold after Castiel’s warmth. “That’s an asshole trick,” he says.

Castiel’s smile grows just for a moment, before he straightens up and his face smooths back into something calm and collected. He steps forward, cupping Dean’s cheek.

“Be ready to leave in twenty minutes,” he says. “I’ll inform Balthazar of our pending absence.”

“Okay,” Dean breathes, doing his best not to lean into the touch. He does grab Castiel’s wrist, though, thumb soothing over the pulse point. “I’ll see you outside.”


	37. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE MORE OF INTO THE FRAY PLEAS PLEAS PLEAS  
> (Because some people complain about length have two!)

“We are  _not_ taking a fucking plane.”

Castiel turns to him, one eyebrow raised. “It’d be much faster,” he says.

Dean’s palms are clammy just thinking about it. “I don’t - I don’t like flying,” he says quietly. “It’s not  _natural_.”

“It’s a thirty-two hour drive to Chicago if we don’t stop,” Castiel says, “versus a four hour flight. Dean, I’m sorry, there are a lot of things I’m willing to concede for you, but we are going to fly.”

Dean swallows hard, kneading uneasily at his thighs through his jeans. “You got any alcohol in the car?” he asks, voice hoarse.

Castiel chuckles, shaking his head, and reaches across the space to take Dean’s hand in his own. Dean grimaces, knowing his palms are probably cold and sweaty, but Castiel doesn’t seem to notice or mind. 

“I’ll take care of you,” he promises, thumb smoothing over Dean’s knuckles. “But you can’t drink too much, Dean. I would like you to be as sharp as you can be, considering the circumstances.”

Dean forces a small laugh, straightening in the backseat of Castiel’s car. Beyond the windows, the city’s night lights pass by quickly, the driver given instructions to get to the airport as quickly as possible. Dean doesn’t even know if there’s a flight leaving soon, but knowing Castiel he wouldn’t be surprised if the man chartered a private plane just for this.

“There’s not a lot of ways to loosen me up right now, Cas,” he says. It feels strange hearing the Alpha’s nickname slide so easily off his tongue, but it’s nice. “I feel like I might throw up and pass out at the same time.”

Castiel hums, his thumb going still on the back of Dean’s hand. Then, Dean has to fight back the yelp that threatens to escape as Castiel pushes himself across the car until they’re pressed right up together. They haven’t been this close since the moments before the gala, and Dean feels shivery and hyper-aware of Castiel’s heat and closeness and his heart is pounding oh God he’s definitely going to pass out -.

“Relax.” Castiel’s deep, rumbling voice floats into Dean’s head, the Alpha quality in there forcing him to take a deep breath, in and out, his eyes closing. “The flight will be over before you know it, and then you just have to deal with my older brother. No pressure.”

Dean looks over Castiel’s way, catching the smug upward turn in the corner of his mouth. “Asshole,” he breathes, sucking in another deep breath. The air is heavy with Castiel’s scent, and it’s soothing and metallic and feels like Dean is inhaling mint smoke. “You - fuck, Cas.”

“Physically your body should even out more quickly the closer in proximity we are,” Castiel says, pressing his thigh up against Dean’s, letting their linked hands rest on Dean’s leg. “Sitting in an enclosed environment for four hours will help immensely, I’m sure.”

“Not if I’m too busy throwing up in the bathroom,” Dean argues, half-heartedly. He hasn’t seen much of Castiel’s teasing side, for all the time he’s known him, and it’s kind of refreshing to see it, even if it’s at Dean’s expense. “You’re gonna owe me big.”

Castiel is quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed at the divider separating driver and passengers, before he turns to face Dean. This close, Dean could turn his head and kiss him, he  _wants_ to, but his mouth is dry and there’s sweat on his upper lip and he’s not sure he wants their first kiss to be gross and with a heavy undercurrent of anxiety.

“I already owe you so much, Dean,” he says quietly. His voice is quiet and warm with affection. “I’m going to do all that I can to repay you, for everything you’ve done for me.”

Dean snorts. “You could start by not making me fly in a giant metal death trap.”

Castiel chuckles. “After Chicago,” he says, squeezing Dean’s hand. “We can drive back. I promise.”

“Deal.”


	38. Strategy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is probably silly but for the Into the Fray verse... What if they get stuck in traffic on their way to Michael's in Chicago, or their car is late, or something similar, and one of them (Dean or Cas) just can NOT handle being late.
> 
> pretty please some plane cuddling and nice moments….its business time so i dont expect confessions or chats but some one on one time would rock! love you xoxo

Dean was doing okay. Not super-dy-duper, but passable. He’d stopped sweating by the time the car had pulled up to the departure curb outside the airport, and most of the ride had been spent with Castiel pressed up to his side, one hand cupping Dean’s loosely and the other with his cell pressed tight to his ear, giving Balthazar the run-down of their plan and location, with orders to check in every four hours after they land.

Dean hasn’t set foot in an airport since Sam left for college. Even when Dean had moved to Stanford not long after, he’d driven. The whole place seems even bigger and more of a headache than he remembers it, with its high, grey ceilings and ridiculously bright lights.

“This way,” Castiel says, taking his hand and hauling their go-bags towards the very last check-in counter at the far end of the row. Dean follows on his heels, breathing deep and slow. To distract himself, he crowd-scans while Castiel checks in their bags and arranges for their departure. 

To say the airport looks like a stressful place would be an understatement. There are children screaming and red in the face, tourists with flip-flops and tank tops with ‘Vegas’ printed in silver sequins across their chest despite the fact that at night in the desert it can get to below freezing. Men in dark suits bustle this way and that, clearly the most important people in the world if the way they shove everyone out of their way is any indication.

Dean looks away when he feels Castiel’s heat return to his side. The Alpha looks him over, eyes grey and sharp, before he nods towards the elevators leading to the departure terminals.

“Once we get through security, there is a private plane waiting for us,” he says, starting in that direction. “That should help your claustrophobia somewhat.”

Dean breathes out a sigh of relief, before he pulls up short in the middle of the crowd. “Security?” he repeats, eyes wide. He looks around, before leaning in. “Cas, we’ve  _both_ got  _guns_  on us.”

Castiel blinks at him. “Of course,” he states plainly. “I would be very annoyed if you didn’t have a weapon on you.”

“They’re gonna arrest us!” Dean says, gesturing upstairs. “They don’t let you take guns on planes.”

Castiel blinks at him again, before he smiles - it’s a small, arrogant thing. “Dean,” he says softly, “don’t ever for a moment forget who I am - and, by extension, who you are now.”

Dean opens his mouth to protest, but then Castiel has already turned away and heading for the escalators. Dean huffs, “You’re such an arrogant prick,” to Castiel’s back, but follows him.

They don’t even wait in the line. One word to an attendant at passport control and Castiel has them escorted through while no one bats an eye. Obvious hazards aside, Dean thinks he could probably get used to this - at least he doesn’t have time to start freaking out, crowded in with the rest of the cattle with only a small, airborne confined space to look forward to.

“This way,” Castiel says, leading him to a tiny gate tucked behind a large group of Delta desks. Another attendant opens a door leading to a dark staircase, which leads down to the tarmac. A few hundred feet away sits a little two-engine plane. It’s smaller than any place Dean has ever seen.

“Is that...safe?” he asks, following close behind Castiel as they make their way over. They climb up the metal stairs and into the plane itself.

The inside is...nice. Dean will admit it’s nicer than some hotels he’s stayed in as a kid. The floor is covered in yellow carpet, there is a two-seater dark brown, leather couch facing the front, another with its back to Dean and Castiel. There’s what looks like a minibar tucked against a wall, wooden walls and soft, pleasantly yellow lighting strips along the top.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Castiel says, stepping inside and taking a seat on the couch facing back towards the front door. Dean swallows, ducking his head because he’s a little too tall to stand all the way straight, and takes a seat opposite Castiel. “We should be prepped for take-off in a few moments.”

Dean sighs, rubbing his palms up and down his thighs, and looks out the window. “Okay,” he says. The space feels a little too small already, and sitting this close to his Alpha without touching him feels like a physical weight in his chest. He’d gotten used to Castiel’s head plastered along his side in the car, and now without him he feels cold and unsteady - but changing spots now feels like admitting some kind of weakness, and he can’t afford to be weak right now.

“So what’s the plan?”

Castiel hums, looking out the window. The yellow lighting makes him look more tan than usual, and his eyes glow with the lights reflecting in from outside. “Michael is, like me, a home-body,” he says. “He will likely invite us to his home. Once there I intend to relate to him the threat Alistair and Lilith attempted to make.”

Dean huffs. “I still don’t see why this couldn’t be done over the phone.” Castiel’s eyes flash to him, then away. Dean frowns, leaning forward. “Cas?”

“I...will admit there is a second motivation,” Castiel admits, looking down for a brief moment. “You have to understand, Dean - Michael raised me. I trust him with everything that I have and everything that I am, and I owe him everything.” He sighs, raising his eyes to meet Dean’s. “Having someone as significant as you in my life...well, I suppose I want him to be aware of you, and to meet you.”

“Is this...like, me meeting your fucking parents or something?” Dean asks, eyes wide.

Castiel nods. “I suppose so. I want Michael to meet you, and - well, if anything should happen to me...I want to make sure he’d be able to take care of you.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Dean demands, his voice higher than he’d meant it to come out. “And how exactly do you think that conversation is gonna go? ‘Oh, hey Mike, your baby brother’s dead and he was kinda fucking me so guess what I’m roomin’ with you now’.”

Castiel lets out a low, quiet snarl. “That is not what I meant at all,” he says, his voice so quiet Dean is forced to fall silent. A flicker of red passes behind his eyes, dark and feral. “First of all, I’m not saying something  _will_ happen to me, but there is absolutely no harm in making sure there is someone looking out for you  _and_ Sam should something happen.

Secondly, no matter what turns, physical or otherwise, our relationship may take, Dean, there will be no ‘kinda’ about it, and it will never be so simple as just ‘fucking’.”

Dean breathes out, unsteady. “Jeez, Cas, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says quietly. 

Castiel’s jaw clenches. “I understand you use humor as a defense mechanism, Dean, but I would ask you to be a little more respectful in the future.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, lowering his eyes. He even looks away, exposing his neck for good measure. He can hear Castiel give another low, little growl, before he heaves a sigh. “I’m not in my head right now, you know? This is a lot to take it - especially when it sounds like this was the Malachs’ plan all along, you know?”

Castiel blinks at him, threatening demeanor gone in a moment. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, get in good with Michael, take you out, have me do whatever it was that would end up taking him down? Sounds kinda textbook. Once Michael likes me there’s nothing stopping someone from taking you out, forcing my hand, you know?”

“I...suppose it’s possible,” Castiel says slowly, sounding unsure. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“I mean, really, the smart thing for us to do would be for you to call Michael, don’t even give him my picture, arrange something for me and Sam if something every did - which, over my freakin’ dead body, but still - and that way Michael wouldn’t even trust me from the get-go.”

At that, a smile flickers over Castiel’s face. “You’re not getting out of this plane ride, Dean,” he says with a trace of amusement in his voice. “But I’ll give you an A+ for creativity.”

Dean grins at him, before he sighs and rolls his shoulders. “Worth a shot.”


	39. Introspection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was wondering--for the mafia verse--if you could write something about the aftermath of Dean's capture from Cas's point of view? Is Cas super protective of him now, not letting him out of his sight? Does it annoy Dean? Does it bring them closer or is that wedge still there? (Sorry this prompt is all questions but I feel like it's your story and I don't want to tell you what to write, lol.) Thanks in advance!

Castiel had never, in all his life, thought that he would take a mate. It wasn’t a matter so simple as sexual desire or attraction, or even the emotional ability to connect with another person. He had never considered it a possibility for him because the idea that an Omega would see everything that he was and still want him was a laughable one.

Castiel knew he had been raised with old-fashioned ideals. Omegas were to stay home, keep house, have children, and if they did work, they worked in places that were safe and secure.

They didn’t see bloodshed. They didn’t fight - even spirited ones submitted with a well-spoken word or a good bite to their neck. Unfair as it might be (it was simple biology), it was true.

Then, Dean.

Dean is so surprising in so many ways Castiel can’t believe he actually exists some days. That this loyal, savage Omega might also be so soft in places, needy, willful, argumentative, shy. That he might have a brother bent on protecting him when it is clear that Dean needs no protection, at least not before he met Castiel.

Now, sitting across from him in a plane, Castiel has an Omega slamming down miniature bottles of alcohol like it’s the end of the world one moment, eyeing his gun and dismantling it, reassembling it and timing himself each time. One second Dean will stare out of the window with the wonder of a child, sitting city lights spread out below them, and the next he’ll turn a little green as he’s remembering where they are and what they’re about to do, and he’ll open another bottle or finish the one he has.

Dean is...entirely captivating. When Castiel had first laid eyes on him he’d known Dean was special. No Omega comes recommended by a police officer for labor if there’s not something about him. Admittedly, Castiel had been blind at first.

He had allowed Dean’s looks and his gender to form assumptions that were entirely unfounded. He had allowed people to think he used Dean as a bedmate, and at the same time cultivated the deadly, pretty child into a man worthy of respect and fear.

Hell, Dean had even overcome Subvertion for Castiel. Mated or not, that meant something.

“Ah, fuck,” Dean growls, wincing and rubbing a hand over his face. “I gotta - I’ll be right back.”

At high altitude, alcohol hits harder. Castiel sighs and, as soon as Dean disappears into the bathroom, shuts the minibar and spins the lock closed. He will need Dean at his best once they land in Chicago.

Even with Dean still so close, Castiel has to fight the urge to go to him. He tells himself it’s because Dean is ill, in mind as well as body, and needs to be taken care of - but he knows Dean doesn’t need to be taken care of. Not really.

Perhaps that is what is so enthralling about him. Dean is not an Omega that needs looking after, or to be doted on, or to be constantly watched over.

Although -.

Castiel growls, his fingers clenching on the arm of the couch as he thinks over when Dean had needed watching over, and he had done nothing to help him. The run in with the Malachs could have gone so much worse - Castiel has _seen_ what those mutts had done to people before, and they were both lucky to have gotten off so easy. But now Dean is suffering, his mind broken apart in ways only now beginning to repair because Castiel had finally admitted his feelings.

Foolhardy, brash, reckless, headstrong - these were things Omegas should not be.

Dean stumbles back from the bathroom, looking considerably improved, and sits himself down back on the couch opposite Castiel with a sigh.

 _I missed you_ , Castiel wants to say, before he swallows back that ridiculous sentiment and instead murmurs, “Feel better?”

Dean winces, running his hands over his face. “I should cut myself off - oh.” His eyes flash to the locked minibar, before he smirks. “I see you already took the initiative on that one.”

Castiel shrugs one shoulder, unapologetic. “I need you at your best.”

“It’s relaxin’ me,” Dean argues without heat. He sits back, sighing heavily. “God, I feel like my head’s on fire.”

 _Protect him, soothe him_. “You should come sit by me,” Castiel says. “We should make sure the Subvertion is repaired as soon as possible.”

Dean lifts his head, his eyes meeting Castiel’s, and Castiel has to fight back a smile when he sees a familiar, challenging light hit Dean’s eyes. “Maybe you move over here,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

It’s a challenge. Castiel knows it, Dean knows it. How odd it is that both of them pretend to be so strong. Castiel hefts himself to his feet without a word, circles the table and sits by Dean’s side. Dean makes a small, surprised sound, but relaxes into Castiel’s heat so easily that Castiel wonders just how long Dean was fighting the urge in the first place.

“Are we almost there?” Dean asks after a long silence.

Castiel checks his watch. “We have another hour and a half or so,” he says, earning a complaining huff from his companion. “Rest, Dean. Try and sleep if you can. I imagine waking up to find we’ve landed will come as a huge relief for you.”

Dean snorts, smirking. “You gonna move so I can lay down?”

Another challenge. Castiel smiles. “Do you want me to?”

Dean looks at him for a long minute, before he rolls his eyes and turns so that his shoulder is braced against Castiel’s, his head on the Alpha’s shoulder. “Asshole,” he mutters.

Castiel smiles again. “Sleep well, Dean.”

“’Night, Cas.”


	40. Michael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the mafia!verse... if you're still doing prompts for that... I was wondering how the meeting with Michael would go? Would Michael respect Dean (as Castiel's mate) or would he treat him like a servant or someone of lower class (seeing as he's an omega)? How would they decide to deal with Lucifer? Etc

Dean honestly doesn’t know what he should expect of Michael. Michael raised Castiel, and so that should give a kind of indication about the man, but he’s still not sure. He knows Castiel isn’t exactly _sexist_ , perse, but Dean also knows that he’s challenged a good deal of societal notions just by being Castiel’s errand boy, then one of his right-hand men.

But being a mate...Hell, Dean has no idea how to be a mate. He has no idea how to act shy and coy and sweet to an Alpha, or how to talk about _domestic_ things. Hell, he would rather spend the rest of his life cleaning guns and talking to Cas about their next business deal than swap pie recipes with other Omegas on some starched suburban street.

He doesn’t think Castiel will make him do that, though. The Alpha is born for the city, the traffic like blood in his veins, the lights mirroring the gleam in his eye when he threatens another man who dares to encroach on his territory. If this were the old days, Castiel would be a tribal king, an Alpha with a pack so large and vicious that their neighbors wouldn’t dare to whisper their names except in the quietest parts of the night.

He feels a million times better once they’re off the plane, and Castiel stops just long enough for them to get some food to sober Dean up the rest of the way and quell the riotous rolling of his stomach.

He’s never done this before - this whole ‘meet the parents’ schtick. And never when the parents were mafiosos who’d probably killed more men than Dean had ever met in his life.

Michael does not have a mansion like Castiel does. At least, not in the city. Castiel directs a taxi to a large shopping mall, and they walk the rest of the way, the long straps of their go-bags slung over their shoulders and across their chests to make sure they can still reach their guns in a pinch. They probably look like they’re about to rob somebody or have just robbed somebody, but no one pays them a second glance.

Chicago is an odd place.

It’s instinct to check that they’re not being followed, and Dean does, turning on the outside of Castiel to check out of his periphery for familiar, repeating colors and bodies. He thinks he catches Castiel smiling to himself, like he knows what Dean’s doing but has decided not to comment - but it’s a proud, warm expression Castiel wears, and so Dean doesn’t stop, and lets his mind flutter happily at knowing he’s pleasing his mate.

Castiel leads him to an apartment complex that, frankly, looks more like the poorer side of student housing than something Dean would imagine a man like Michael living in. He bites his tongue, though, and climbs the stairs to the second level on the outside before Castiel knocks on the door - apartment 206 - and waits.

There’s no protection, no security, no nothing, and Dean has no idea what to expect.

The door opens for them and a tall, handsome Alpha greets them with a warm smile. He shares Castiel’s dark hair and strong jaw, but his skin is darker and his eyes are a shining, flat green like polished glass. He smiles slightly off-kilter like Castiel does, and as he lets them in and Dean and Castiel traipse inside, Dean notes that he smells like absolutely nothing at all.

No gun oil, no leather, no blood. Too clean. Dean’s palms itch.

“Castiel, always good to see you, brother,” the Alpha - Michael, he must be Michael - says, tugging Castiel in a tight embrace that lasts for barely a moment. Then, he turns to Dean. “And you must be Dean,” he adds, that smile never waivering. Dean thinks he could probably learn to read Michael’s smile in how his eyes flash. “Castiel has informed me of your condition. You look remarkable. Remind me to greet you properly once you’re feeling better.”

Dean blinks, not sure whether to be uncomfortable with the vaguely flirtatious tone or the idea that Michael doesn’t think a quick head-nod and a smile is a perfectly acceptable greeting amongst strangers. Both, he settles on. 

He’d been around Castiel for so long he’d forgotten what it was like for an Alpha to be so...open. Michael stands still, not fidgeting and steadfast like Castiel, but he has clearly learned how to emote much better than Castiel ever did.

Dean looks around the apartment, raising an eyebrow at the furnishing. They look like Michael closed his eyes and flipped through an IKEA catalogue and bought everything that was on a random living room set he opened to. It was definitely not the opulence of Castiel’s room and Dean couldn’t begin to fathom how Michael slept in a place like this, so unguarded and _cheap_.

Granted, Dean hadn’t exactly been living the high life before Castiel, but even now he knows that if he ever is independent with his own money he’ll never sleep in a crappy motel again. Damn, maybe he has settled into mated life a little too much already.

“Now, Castiel, to what do I owe the pleasant surprise?”

“I wanted to speak with you,” Castiel replies, his tone flat. “About the Malachs. It seems like they were planning something that might threaten us.”

 _Us_. Not ‘you’. A threat to Michael is a threat to Castiel.

Michael raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Castiel nods.

“Well, can it wait until dinner? I’d be remiss if I didn’t treat my baby brother and his...” He waits for one of them to fill the silence, to put a mate to whatever Dean is. Mate? Omega? Friend? “...companion,” Michael finises, when no answer comes, “to my city’s signature food. I insist, Castiel.”

Castiel hesitates, his eyes flashing over to Dean. Dean has never seen him like this - unsure, deferring almost. Of course, Michael is an older Alpha, physically larger, imposing in an almost unsettling way, but Dean has never seen Castiel visibly affected by such things.

Dean shrugs one shoulder and gives Castiel what he hopes is an encouraging look. Free food and a delayed plane flight back? Sure. “Got nothin’ else goin’ on,” he says.

Castiel looks at him for another moment, his eyes unreadable, before he nods. “That would be fine,” he says.

Michael smiles. “Good. Make yourselves at home.”


	41. Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean and Cas finally fucking talk about it.

"You know, when I imagined Michael, I kinda pictured him…different."

The phrase is met by a noncommittal hum from Castiel, the Alpha looking over at Dean with a raised eyebrow. Dean shrugs one shoulder, toying idly with a piece of splintered wood coming up from the edge of the Ikea desk along one wall of the apartment.

"Different, how?"

"Well…"

Dean sighs, his shoulders rolling. He's _bored_ – with all the rush to get to Chicago, now there's here and Michael has abandoned them until dinner and he doesn't really know what to do with himself. The apartment is bare and lacking in anything that could serve as entertainment, furnished like a poor student's housing, and he's still too unsettled to want to go just wandering around.

"I mean, your place is all swanky and nice. And Michael – I don't know, big kahuna like him, I kind of pictured him with something more…"

"Something more?" Castiel repeats as Dean just lets the sentence hang, and he nods. Castiel shakes his head, an amused smile crossing his face. "Truthfully, I don't think Michael even cares anymore. I've seen him in the heights of luxury and also spoken with him when he looked no better than a homeless man. I think when one has that much money and power one can do whatever they feel like without needing to care about it."

"Weirds me out," Dean mutters. "This ain't even safe, let alone a good place to lay low. All exposed and shit."

Castiel hums. "I agree with you," he says. He's leaning behind the half-wall that serves as a break between the main area and the kitchenette, elbows braced on the ugly counter and staring across the room at Dean as though he's trying to decide something.

Dean blinks at him, eyes narrowing. Even now, after sitting next to Castiel for four hours in the plane and spending every second by his side since Dean told him of the Malachs' plan, Dean still feels the space between them in his chest, like every part of him is screaming to be closer to his Alpha. If Castiel feels the pull as well, he doesn't show it, but Dean imagines he can see the tension in Castiel's shoulders and the desire to be closer in his eyes.

They're both too proud, he thinks. That's their problem. Dean isn't some Omega bitch willing to cower at the first powerful Alpha he meets and Castiel has been raised in a world where any affection is weakness, any desire is another tool that your enemies can use to exploit you.

But they're alone, here, now, and Castiel promised him that they'd drive back from Chicago as well. Thirty-plus hours in a car together. They say you never know someone like you know them on a roadtrip. And if they stop they'll need to get a motel, and people will probably assume they want a king and not two queens, and it won't just be Castiel's people making jokes or Castiel's enemies' snide remarks. It'll be strangers looking at them and assuming because why wouldn't they assume? Why wouldn't an Alpha-Omega pair like Dean and Castiel, who spend so much time together and trust each other with their lives and stink of each other because of it, be mated as well? It's the natural order, the way the world works, and for the first time in his life Dean doesn't want to fight it.

Abruptly, Castiel blinks, straightening up. "You're thinking too hard," he says, frowning. "What are you thinking about?"

Dean licks his lips. "Us," he says, his eyes on Castiel's face because he'll be damned if he misses a second of emotion from Castiel before that mask goes back up and he's left staring at a statue again. Even though Castiel has admitted his feelings – that they _both_ have – it still feels like Dean is stuck behind glass, able to talk but not be heard, able to be seen but not felt. "And the drive back. Kinda don't know if I want to do it anymore."

Castiel's frown deepens. "You want to fly back?" he asks. "Why?"

Dean rolls his shoulders and tries to force a laugh out, tries to play it off as a joke; "You wanna be stuck in a car with me for thirty hours? Sharin' a motel with me? S'probably better we just fly." He shrugs one shoulder and dips his gaze, his teeth sinking into his lower lip to stop himself saying more.

"I admit I was rather looking forward to driving back with you," Castiel says without hesitation, earning a surprised look from Dean. Castiel smiles. "Why do you look so shocked? Surely I've made my feelings about you clear by now."

Dean shakes his head, shrugging once more. "I know…"

"Then what is it?"

"It's just…it won't just be the drive, right? We'll have to stop somewhere, and sleep in the same bed probably, and people will just… _know_."

Castiel nods, once, slowly. "And that bothers you?"

"It bothers me when it feels like everyone knows the punchline to a joke and I don't even know the joke," Dean bites out. His palms feel sweaty and the room feels warm and all he can think about is how stressed out the thought is making him and how Castiel is still so _fucking far away_. "Because we're _not_ mates, Cas, not yet at least, if we ever do that. We don't _talk_ about it, we just keep on keepin' on and I don't know what you're expecting, or what I'm expecting anymore, but it's just pissing me off and I don't want to deal with _everyone else_ while I'm dealing with _you_."

"You asked for space," Castiel says, his expression unchanged. He doesn't exactly look angry, despite the frown – more confused. He clasps his hands together on top of the kitchenette counter. "Before we left, you told me you were angry and you wanted time and I have tried my best to give you that. Now you're telling me that's not what you want?"

"I don't _know_ what I want, you asshole!" Dean growls. "Because my head feels like it's broken into a million pieces but all I know is you're over _there_ and I'm over _here_ and I don't like it."

Castiel straightens immediately, his hands unfolding as he circles the half-wall dividing them and closes the space between them without a word. It's faster than Dean had anticipated and slower all at once and his heart is hammering and the room feels like it's a thousand degrees and yet Castiel's eyes are icy, sharp. They are cold hooks digging in behind his ribs and urging him closer.

"Is this better?" he asks, voice gravel-rough and low. Dean licks his lips and nods, his exhale unsteady. He tilts his head to one side just slightly, baring as much of his neck as he can stand, and shivers when Castiel's hand comes up and flattens across it, cupping his neck loosely. "I've told you," he says, "whatever you ask of me – I will do it for you. I will give you everything. You need only ask."

Dean shivers again. "Not so good at the 'asking' part," he replies, his voice hardly more than a whisper because it feels as though all the air has been sucked out of the room and he can't put any more volume behind it.

"Dean," Castiel breathes, his eyes dropping to Dean's mouth for a moment before dragging back up. His fingers tighten on Dean's neck in a mimic of a bite and it's such a sudden, unexpected movement that Dean almost falls to his knees.

Dean isn't sure what he expects to happen – if they kiss right now, it won't end there. Dean knows that more surely than he knows his own name. And as much as he wants it, the floor of Michael's safe house isn't the place he wants them to mate.

But oh _God_ , how he wants it. He licks his lips and opens his mouth, unsure of what he's even going to say – 'Cas', maybe, or 'Please' or 'Do it' or whatever else he might need to say to get Castiel to lean in those last few inches – but then Castiel's phone starts ringing – a shrill, annoying sound that snaps their attention away from each other and causes Castiel to flinch back, his hand dropping from Dean's neck so suddenly that it feels like Dean has been burned.

"Fuck," Castiel mutters, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. "It's Balthazar."

Dean swallows, hard, and leans back against the wall with a sigh, trying to will his racing heart to calm and his body to cool down. It's a losing battle, he's sure – his entire _body_ burns for his Alpha and it will probably take a cold shower or three to get him back to normal.

"What?" Castiel snaps into the phone, sharper and more irritated than Dean has ever seen him. Then, he blinks, his eyes widening. "Are you serious?" he asks, quieter this time, his eyes on Dean. "Okay. Thank you. Alert Michael immediately."

Then, he hangs up. "We have to go."

"Of course we do," Dean replies with a sigh, grabbing his go-bag. "Told you this place wasn't fuckin' secure. Where are we going?"

"Another place," Castiel says shortly. "Michael and Balthazar will be joining us later. With reinforcements."

"Reinforcements? Was there an attack?"

"Not exactly."

"What does that mean? Lucifer's?" Dean asks, even though he knows the answer. They wiped out Lucifer's men down to the last, he's _sure_ of that. Castiel shakes his head. "Then what?"

"Someone knows we're here," Castiel says with an angry noise, ushering Dean out of the door ahead of him. "Balthazar is gathering intelligence as we speak. I'm not sure of the details, but if they know we're here then we need to leave."

Dean frowns. "We _weren't_ followed," he says quietly. "I made sure."

"I know, Dean," Castiel replies, rubbing his fingers against his eyes for a moment before he straightens, sighing, the weariness dropping from him like a winter coat in springtime. "But I'm not willing to risk it. So we're going somewhere else." He turns to look at Dean for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he presses his lips together and reaches up to squeeze Dean's shoulder, once. "Trust me?"

"Of course I do," Dean replies without hesitation.

Castiel smiles. "Good."


	42. Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Jenn - *leans over and kisses you on the cheek because you're perfect and softly whispers "mafia Cas" in you ear*  
> Y'all have been so fucking patient I cannot believe.

 

Castiel walks quickly away from Michael's apartment, to where Dean cannot guess. He didn't study the city layout before they left (he should have, but to be fair he had other things on his mind like Subversion and fucking Cas being _Cas_ and a whole bunch of other bullshit) so all he can do is blindly follow and make sure they, in turn, aren't being hunted as well.

They aren't. Dean makes _so_ sure of it. Castiel seems agitated, more so than usual. Whether that's because of how they had been interrupted, or worry over his brother, Dean can't begin to guess. Castiel's agitation feels like a taste in Dean's mouth, like he can feel it himself and see it as plain as ink in the tension of his shoulders and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

They round a corner and Dean almost collides with Castiel's arm as the Alpha reaches out to stop him stepping out into the street. Castiel's hand grabs the lapel of his jacket, holding him firm and pulling him back behind the Alpha's shoulder.

"There," he says, nodding towards a hole-in-the-wall looking place across the street. It's the kind of place that looks like it leads to an apartment above a coffee shop or something like that, but Dean is sure it really leads to come back-alley bar, where seedy deals go down and people tend to just disappear from the alley behind it.

"That's where Michael is?" he asks, his lips close to Castiel's ear. He doesn't miss how to Alpha shivers and his fingers clench in Dean's jacket. Castiel turns back around, his eyes catching Dean's immediately, and he licks his lips and lets Dean go.

"That's where they're meeting us," he replies with a nod. His eyes move away quickly, watching the other side of the street. People are passing by without a second glance. No one cares about them standing in the middle of the sidewalk. "I don't…know what we're going to find in there, Dean, or what my brother intends to tell us. But I want you to know that I trust your instincts, and I respect your comfort more than I respect my brother's. I want you to let me know if…if anything goes off in your head, I want to know about it. Okay?"

Dean licks his lips, nodding. "Okay."

"I mean it, Dean," Castiel says, resting a hand on Dean's chest lightly. Dean shivers as well, his breath leaving him in a soft sigh. "I want you to know that _you_ are my priority, now."

Dean nods again. "I understand."

"Good." Then, Castiel lets him go, sucking in a sharp breath and hoisting his duffle bag higher on his shoulder. "Alright. Let's go."

"I think I know where you got your dramatic flair," Dean jokes as they cross the street, and Castiel rolls his eyes as he pulls open the door and holds it for Dean to go through first. Clearly he has no fear of entering the place, which helps Dean relax somewhat. The door opens to a long, bland-looking corridor with beige walls and a red carpet and another door at the other end of the corridor.

Castiel closes the door behind them and steps in front of Dean, leading the way down the hallway. Dean follows close behind, his ears pricked and trying to listen for any clues as to what the other door will open to. There is nothing, the corridor eerily soundproof.

Castiel reaches the other door and knocks twice on it – two hard raps with his knuckles, before he lets the duffle bag fall of his shoulder to be loosely clasped in his hand by his side. Dean follows suit, and squints when the door opens to reveal a brightly-lit room beyond. The door is opened by Balthazar who ushers them inside quickly.

"Were you followed?"

That's Michael's voice, and Dean wants to roll his eyes but he forces his expression to stay neutral as he turns to face the other Alpha. "No," he says. "Made sure."

Michael smiles at him, his expression warm and welcoming. "Good. Have a seat, you two."

Dean eyes the table at which he's sat. The room itself can't be larger than his bedroom at Castiel's mansion, and it certainly isn't large enough to be anything other than a random room-for-rent. It's so brightly lit that Dean is getting a headache from the lights, and there is a single mahogany table in the center with five chairs around it.

As Dean sits, he can hear Michael taking sharp, quick inhales and fights the urge to fidget and snap at Michael to stop scenting him. Michael makes no comment, though, nor does he spare a second glance in Dean's direction as Castiel sits next to him, and Balthazar sits at the fourth chair around the table.

Castiel nods to the fifth empty one. "Are we expecting one more?"

Michael smiles again. "Yes," he says simply. "I'm sure he'll be along shortly. Are you hungry?"

Castiel frowns at him. "Michael," he snaps, "I came here to warn you of a possible threat to your life, to _both_ of our lives, and you're acting very cavalier about it. Then you summon us here under circumstances that seemed a lot more urgent than they appear to be." He sits back with a huff and Dean has to fight a smile at how wonderfully _little-brother-like_ Castiel is being.

"Castiel," Michael says warmly, "I have threats made on my life hourly. In fact, a day is considered interesting for me if I'm not threatened in some way. But, please…" He sits back, gesturing Castiel's way. "Enlighten me so that you can settle yourself."

Castiel fixed Michael with a wholly unimpressed look, before he sighs. "After Lucifer, Dean was kidnapped by a pair called the Malachs. Their intention was to force Dean into Subversion and send him after you."

Michael raises an eyebrow, cocking his head to one side. "….Well, it's an original one, I'll give them that," he says with a chuckle. "Very interesting. So he would, what?" His gaze turns to Dean, red just visible in the bottle-green of his iris. "Seduce me and kill me when my guard was down? How Black Widow."

Dean huffs a laugh, his smile tight and uncomfortable. "Yeah, well, I wasn't too big on the idea either," he says, his voice low.

At that, Michael chuckles. "It's interesting you should mention these people, and this plan. The Malachs, I think you call them?"

Castiel nods.

There is another sharp knock on the door and Michael lifts his head to it. Balthazar gets up to open it and allow the fifth man in. He's a short, stocky man, an Omega from the first scents Dean gets of him – but he smells off, somehow. Almost dead, and cold. Dean swallows hard, his stomach getting tight and anxious as the man steps into the room.

"Ah, Crowley, do join us," Michael greets with a gesture to the last seat. The man smiles, this tight thing amidst his scruffy jaw, and takes the offered seat. It's next to Castiel and Dean makes a low, ugly sound in the back of his throat that he's sure no one else hears.

He doesn't exactly feel possessive, in that moment, because he's sure Castiel's attraction to this Omega matches Dean's attraction to him, but still. His upper lip curls just slightly as the other Omega looks at him.

Crowley's grin widens. "Oh, so this must be Dean," he says. His voice is foreign, British or Scottish if Dean were to guess, and he talks as though he's been smoking cigars and chugging whiskey his entire life. Crowley steeples his fingers, his gold-blue eyes looking Dean over like he's a lamb lined up for slaughter. "Yes, I think he'll do nicely."

Castiel, it seems, shares Dean's sentiment towards the man, because a dark expression passes over his face. "Do for what, exactly?" he asks, his voice icy.

"Boys, I have a business proposition for you," Crowley says, spreading his hands out in a gesture of goodwill. "You both have control of your marvelous cities, and I'm here trying to establish a little something of my own, further in the South. I need…people, to help with clearing out the pests that are already there."

Dean frowns, looking to Castiel, then Michael. "And…why do you think we'll do that?" he asks.

"Well, darling, frankly you owe me," Crowley says with another smile. "The Malachs were close personal friends of mine, and they were going to be helping me with my little problem, but thanks to you two," he points at Castiel and Dean, "I can't use them anymore."

"The Malachs were trying to send me after you," Dean says, looking to Michael, "why are we sitting down with this guy?"

Michael smiles. "There is a lot about our world that you don't understand yet, Dean," he says. "The fact of the matter is Crowley here is an old family friend of my father's. And if he wants to set his sights somewhere else, it is my obligation and my pleasure to assist him."

"So he can be someone else's problem," Dean mutters, and he doesn't miss the flash of approval in Michael's eyes.

"What exactly are you proposing we do for you?" Castiel asks, his voice quiet and steady. His fingers are clenched tightly on his thigh and Dean can see the tension in his shoulders hasn't left, hasn't even budged. He looks ready to start a fight.

" _You_ will do nothing," Crowley says, looking at Castiel before shifting his gaze, dismissive and bored-looking. "For this, I need an Omega's touch. I need Dean. He's lethal, we already know that. He's invaluable to someone like me who…lacks the manpower, yet."

Dean can't believe this. He looks to Castiel and finds the Alpha regarding Crowley with a careful mix of distaste and apathy, like he can't decide whether he'd rather just leave or lunge for the Omega's throat just out of principle.

Finally, before Dean can say anything, Castiel says; "No." He looks at Michael, anger burning now in his eyes and heavy in his words; "No. This is over." He stands suddenly and Dean hurries to follow suit. "We're leaving."

No one tries to stop them. Crowley smiles at Dean like he knows a secret that Dean would _die_ to hear. "Ta-ta, love. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other soon."

Officially creeped out and more than a little nauseated, Dean follows Castiel out of the room, down the hallway and out onto the street beyond. Balthazar follows them a moment later.

"Did you know about this?" Castiel asks, his eyes fixed on some point across the street and not at his second in command.

Balthazar shakes his head. "I swear, I didn't."

Castiel heaves a deep breath through his nose, then out through his mouth. "Fly back home immediately. Dean and I will be driving," he says, before he turns and strides away from the other Alpha like he can't wait to put as much distance between them as possible. Dean has to jog for a few steps to catch up but eventually he does.

"I'm not going to consider it, Dean," Castiel says after a moment, when their pace has slowed to a more reasonable walk and the anger in Castiel's eyes and the clench of his jaw has faded away. "Not even for a second."

"I know," Dean says, but he can't help thinking, with some dreadful certainty in the pit of his stomach, that they might not have a choice in the matter.


	43. Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please please please more mafia cas? Will they ever mate????

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short answer? Yes.

They are quick to gather their things and go to the nearest rent-a-car place. Dean can't help looking over his shoulder at every turn, certain he'll see one of Michael's goons or one of Crowley's following them whenever he does. Of course, he hasn't met either Michael or Crowley's men and has no reason to believe either of them even _have_ men in the area, but that's a naïve thing to think. Everyone like them – like Castiel and Michael and Crowley – have people surrounding them at all times.

Castiel rents a hybrid. Dean would roll his eyes (and he does make a grumpy comment under his breath just out of principle), but he doesn't make a comment as they walk over to the shiny silver car and load up their belongings. Dean's not sure if Castiel intends to make it home with any urgency. All that talk of driving back had been _before_ meeting with Michael and Crowley, and truthfully Dean is surprised that Castiel didn't insist that Balthazar charter another jet to get them home as soon as possible.

Castiel gets into the driver's seat and Dean slides into the passenger side door. They peel out of the parking lot and onto the highway in silence. Dean feels itchy along his skin, like there are spiders crawling down his spine. His car is usually alive with music and dead silences normally mean Castiel is angry with him or some major shit is about to go down.

Finally, Dean can't take it anymore. "We have to talk about it," he says.

Castiel's fingers tighten on the wheel. "There isn't anything to talk about," he says curtly, his eyes never moving from the road. He flips his turn signal on and smoothly moves into the faster lane to their left, the car giving a pitiful little whir as it tries to keep up with traffic. Fucking hybrids.

Dean sighs. "Cas…"

"I'm not allowing it," Castiel bites out, his knuckles going white. "I don't care what Crowley does, or threatens, or whatever Michael might say to convince me. I'm _not allowing_ it, Dean."

"Hey, I mean, I'm not saying I want to, but I kind of feel compelled to bring up the whole 'I'm my own person' thing again," Dean replies, more than a little irritated at Castiel's tone. Yes, of course he doesn't _want_ to play into that Omega's games, but he's not going to do it because _he_ doesn't want to, not because his pseudo-Alpha _who hasn't even mated him yet_ is saying he can't.

At that, Castiel does look at him, his gaze icy and his jaw clenched, eyes threaded with red. "Of course," he says quietly after a moment, turning his eyes back to the road a fraction later than Dean would have been comfortable with. They _are_ driving, after all. "I am more than aware that you are your own person, Dean, with your own desires and dreams and whatever else. And I am more than aware that I have stifled those things and forced you to become someone you never wanted to be. I do not speak out of any sense of ownership of you."

Dean blinks, frowning. "But you do technically own me," he says, finishing the sentence he can't help but think Castiel is wanting to say. Castiel presses his lips together and doesn't answer, and Dean straightens in his seat. "I mean – you do, right? You always will. I'm in debt to you through the nose. I ain't ever payin' that back."

"I don't expect you to," Castiel says.

"Bullshit."

" _Dean_." Castiel snaps his name out like a curse, the red in his eyes thickening. "My affection for you has removed the need to put a price on what you might ever owe me. Even if I were so inclined I would not come up with a number that would satisfy both of us. You would not believe anything I said."

"What are you doing?" Dean says quietly. "Why are you starting shit with me?"

"I believe you were the one being antagonistic," Castiel replies just as quietly, but as he speaks it seems like the anger deflates him, and his hands abruptly unclench from the steering wheel and slide down to rest against the bottom of the circle. "I'm sorry. I'm just…I find this entire situation very distressing."

"If it's any consolation, you're good at hiding it," Dean teases, earning a roll of Castiel's eyes. "Seriously, Cas, are you okay?"

"No," Castiel says, sighing again. "Michael has never lied to me before. And he has never tried to mix his business with mine. He even scolded me for how I handled Lucifer, but…" He shakes his head. "The thought that he would allow this _man_ to come to us, knowing how I feel about you and how much I value you, and he must have _known_ what Crowley would have wanted…"

Dean bites his lower lip, his chest getting warm and tight at Castiel's words. He can't help smiling. "Well, as adorable as your protectiveness is," he says, "it's not going to matter. I'm not doing it."

Castiel hums. "I hope that choice doesn't get taken away from you," he says, his voice getting unbearably sad as he looks over at Dean again. "I've robbed you of so much choice, Dean, and so much of your agency. Your _identity_. Your -."

"Soul?" Dean finished, raising an eyebrow, and Castiel nods, returning his eyes to the road. "I thought we went over this, Cas. I don't…" He bites his lip again, turning in his seat so that he's looking at the road as well. The road feels safe. Neutral. A good place for staring during uncomfortable conversations. "I meant what I said in that apartment. And I don't regret anything I've had to do for you."

Castiel makes another noncommittal sound, before he reaches out and places his hand on the gear shift. It feels like he's reaching for something, like maybe he wants to touch Dean but can't bring himself to. Dean had asked for space but now he wants more than anything to touch Castiel back.

"I am so happy that you came to me, Dean," the Alpha says after several more miles of silence. His hand hasn't moved. "You have changed me. I know that."

Dean nods, swallowing hard, and lets his hand fall against his thigh so that his fingers brush against Castiel's where they rest against the shaft of the gear shift. The Alpha's fingers flex and curl around his, his touch unbelievably warm and spreading through Dean like an open flame.

"I'm not going anywhere," Dean says, because he feels like he has to say something and that's as close as he can get to a reassurance and an open admission as he can manage. It feels too raw and too real to say anything else.

Castiel smiles. "Thank you."


	44. Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Hi beautiful. Not sure if you're still waiting but dear lord I'd love more of Alpha mafia cas. I mean, him and Dean haven't even fucked yet!

 

They drive for hours, the silence shifting from awkward to companionable as the day wears on. Dean even manages to get a few sparse moments of sleep, even though he doesn't feel like he should. The car feels like it's been electrified. His hand hasn't moved from where it's gently brushing against Castiel's.

Over the course of the drive, the warmth from Castiel's hand feels like it seeps into him, first running up his arm like a limb that's fallen asleep, tingling and uncomfortable. Then it gets to his shoulder, making it twitch. Then it hits his chest and he feels himself _relaxing_.

Maybe this is what it's meant to be like, sitting in a space with his Alpha. He's not nauseous with anxiety over a plane ride, he's not afraid of what's going to be waiting for them at their destination. They're going home, to a place they both share. Maybe Dean will stop sleeping in his rooms for good. Maybe Castiel will make room for him in the main part of the house. Not that he hasn't out of any desire to have Dean away from him – Dean knows that Castiel values him having his own space to retreat to. Omegas are nesters at the best of times and it helps, he knows that, to have his own space to himself.

But he doesn't want that space anymore. He meant what he said in the apartment. He _hates_ the idea of being one place and having Castiel be _another_. Whether that's across a room or across the country, his stomach gives an unhappy churn whenever he thinks about it.

"Cas?" he asks as the traffic starts to thicken. It's rush hour now and so it's to be expected. They'll probably stop the night soon. The Alpha gives a soft hum, his eyes still on the road as he merges from the fast lane as it becomes a turn-only lane and slows to a stop at a red light. "Do you actually want to mate with me?"

He doesn't know why he asks it. It certainly isn't what he meant to ask, though if asked he's not sure what he would have said instead. Castiel's fingers flex on the gear shift but his hand doesn't move away. Dean can sense the Alpha's mood change, though to what he can't identify.

"Why do you ask me that?" he replies, and Dean wants to roll his eyes because of course that's what Castiel would say. Getting a straight answer out of the Alpha has never been an easy task except for the times when both of them are high-strung and shouting at each other.

Dean sighs, and even though it feels like he's peeling his skin away from hot metal, he moves his hand and rubs it over his face. "Forget it," he says, shifting in his seat and turning his face away. "Don't even know why I asked."

"Dean -."

"I feel like I've forced you into shit, too, Cas," Dean says quietly. "I mean – I mean, Hell, we've been in each other's pockets for _years_ now, and I'm Omega and you're…"

Castiel is silent for a moment, considering this. "You believe that _proximity_ is the only thing that made me affectionate towards you?"

" _Affectionate_ ," Dean scoffs. "I guess that's one way to put it."

" _Dean_." The Alpha's voice is cutting and stops Dean half-way through the rest of his sentence. Dean deflates with a loud breath, biting his lower lip hard to stop himself saying anything else. Castiel is looking at him, now. He can feel the Alpha's bright blue eyes boring into the side of his face, but he refuses to look in Castiel's direction. His eyes are prickling with gold, he can see them in the side-view mirror. "I…confess I had never given much thought to mating. But I'm insulted that you think that your worth to me is a product of _proximity_."

Dean blinks, taking in a deep breath. "It's natural," he says, rubbing his palms against his thighs as they start to swear. "Omegas give out pheromones -."

"And what do you feel for me?" Castiel demands. "Do you think that what you feel is because of this proximity? My answering pheromones? Do you feel this way for Balthazar, or Uriel, or any other Alphas that live in my house?"

Dean grimaces, unbidden an image of Balthazar and Uriel coming to his head. Granted, he likes Balthazar well enough, but more as that uncle that people kind of don't want to invite to parties but always do because he brings the good booze and has the funniest stories.

"No," he replies firmly.

"Then _please_ , do not insult me by thinking I am incapable of selection, of _choice_. I have been with you while you were completely lost to your Heat and I was able to control myself because I care for you – _and_ , when and if you ever do consent to mating with me, I want to do it _right_."

Dean raises an eyebrow, finally turning to look at Castiel. The Alpha's eyes aren't red like he expected them to be. He looks sincere and injured, like Dean has stuck a knife in his chest. "When and if?" Dean parrots, unable to think of anything else to say. "Cas, you gotta know how I feel about you by now."

Castiel blinks, pressing his lips together, and turns his attention back to the road as the light changes and he lets the car roll forward. "I know what you say," he says. Both of his hands are on the steering wheel now, gripping it tightly. "I know how…how you smell, when I'm close to you. How you looked when I was going to kiss you. You make me feel incredible, terrifying things, Dean."

"Like what?" Dean breathes, his eyes wide.

"It is…selfish, how I desire you. I will admit that," Castiel says, nodding once. "I want the world to know that you are mine. That whatever you do, and whoever you talk to, and as high as you will go, that you have given yourself to me and that I own you. I _do_ want to own you, Dean. But in the purest way. In the way that…I suppose Alphas and Omegas are supposed to own each other."

Dean licks his lips, looking ahead again. The road isn't as safe here, loud and crowded with other vehicles. Castiel stops to let a mother and her child cross the street in front of them and he lifts his fingers in a little wave when the kid grins and waves at him.

Dean's mind is racing.

"If you mate me," he says slowly, "I'll be useless to Crowley."

Castiel raises an eyebrow, looking back in Dean's direction. "That is…true," he says slowly.

Dean nods. "And you really want to mate with me?" he asks, looking back at the Alpha. The distance between them has never been so meaningless, he thinks. It's as though they're pressed right up against each other even though they're not even touching. His chest feels tight and he _wants_. "Like, _really_?"

Castiel's eyes drop to his mouth, then back up, and he nods. "Yes, Dean," he says.

Dean nods. "Then we will."

"Oh?" Castiel's lips quirk up, his eyes darken, and Dean nods again, a small shiver running down his spine at the Alpha's low voice, already rougher.

"Yeah," he replies. "But not tonight. Not in a motel or whatever. I want to be _home_ when we do it."

Castiel makes a soft, happy sound, a rumble in his chest like a purr, and he reaches out and takes Dean's hand again and lifts his knuckles to kiss them. "That can definitely be arranged."


	45. Hotel

They pulled up into a motel somewhere in the middle of Nebraska, where the night was dark and old and the light on the car was blinking the early hours at them. Dean wasn't surprised at the lack of grandeur, that Castiel didn't put them up somewhere in a city. That wasn't the point of the drive home.

He stayed behind with the bags while Castiel made sure where was a vacancy and, when he returned with a room key in hand, they drove around the side of the motel to park outside of their door. Room 116. They got out of the car and grabbed their duffles and headed inside.

Dean flicked on the light and snorted at the interior. It looked like someone had tried for the rustic cowboy theme, but ran out of money halfway through and decided that cow print and enough leather would fill in the ambiance well enough. There was a rather nice painting of a man on a bucking bronco hanging over the headboard, but that was about as genuine as it got.

There was only one bed in the room. A king. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, and set his duffle bag on the far side of the bed, knowing that Castiel would insist on taking the spot closest to the door. He heard Castiel fix and fasten all of the locks and the gold chain.

"I'm gonna shower," he called over his shoulder, grabbing his toiletries and a spare set of sleep clothes from his bag before going to the bathroom and kicking the door shut behind him. The bathroom, if possible, was worse than the bedroom. The walls were painted a bright, garish yellow that Dean had to wince before he could allow his eyes the horror of taking it in, and the shower curtain sported a motif of wild horses running from the bottom corner up to the top. Nothing matched.

"Jesus," he muttered, rolling his eyes, but he figured at one in the morning it probably didn't matter. He set his clothes down on the counter and grabbed a rolled-up towel from under the sink, before shedding his clothes and stepping into the bathtub, pulling the shower closed.

He turned it on and hissed at the freezing water that started immediately beating down on his shoulders before the settings kicked in and it started to warm up. Well, at least the place had good water pressure. That was a small blessing. Dean hummed, rubbing his hands through his hair and tilting his head forward to let the water soak all down his body, before he grabbed the little bottle of generic shampoo and lathered a generous dollop into his hair.

His mind was racing. Castiel had gotten a king-sized bed. They were going to be sleeping in the same bed together, both of them conscious and under their own faculties. Not riddled with Heat, or sick and recovering from gun shots, or anything else weighing on them. Even the Subvertion felt…thinner, like his mind had slowly started to piece itself back together.

Dean felt good about this. He wouldn't let anyone say otherwise. Castiel had agreed to mate with him – his _Alpha_ wanted him, and that made him feel warm for a reason entirely separate from the heat of the shower water.

He couldn't stop thinking about what waited for him when he was done. Castiel showered in the mornings, so he'd reek of Alpha, and have that somehow-pleasant scent of Alpha and outside city air still all over him. Dean shivered, biting his lower lip as he started to imagine how Castiel would feel lying beside him, just able to hear the Alpha's breathing, and feel his warmth and his heartbeat, steady and slow. How he'd look relaxed in sleep.

He forced himself not to think about other things – things that he desperately wanted, the things he thought about when it was just him in his room in the middle of a Heat with one of the toys Castiel had bought him shoved up his ass. He hadn't fucked an Alpha in what felt like forever, not since the man that Castiel had killed right in front of him, and that hardly counted.

He washed out the shampoo and turned the shower off before his body could overtake his head and start getting for things he wasn't going to let happen tonight. He meant what he said – in their home, in _their bed_. That was where he wanted to mate. That was where he was _allowed_ to be.

He wondered if Castiel would be rough, succumb to the feral drive to mate and breed like Alphas were want to do. How he'd feel over Dean, behind him, biting at his neck and a hand around his throat and his _cock_ -.

"Stop it," he hissed to himself, blushing hard when he felt his body starting to get hot and slick. Fuck, he could _not_ go out smelling like an Omega that was _dying_ for a fuck. He scrubbed his body with the towel until his skin turned pink and the discomfort outweighed his treacherous thoughts. He dressed in a pair of soft sleep pants and an old t-shirt – something soft and comfortable even though it was more than what he usually slept in. He brushed his teeth and left the towel on the floor, stepping back out into the hotel room.

"Shower's free," he offered, though he knew Castiel wouldn't take it.

"I'll shower in the morning," Castiel replied, predictably, and Dean nodded. "If you don't mind."

"'Course not. Figured I'd offer," he said. Castiel went into the bathroom to use it and brush his teeth, which left Dean enough time to climb under the covers and make himself comfortable amid the sparse ration of thin motel pillows. He'd been spoiled in Castiel's house and tried not to roll his eyes and think back on the times where he'd gone with little more than a blanket and a bunched up hoodie on the floor for a pillow.

Castiel came back out and turned off the lights, throwing the room into darkness. Dean heard him moving slowly and felt his hand gently touch the bedspread around his feet as he navigated his way to the other side of the bed. The covers lifted, letting in another draft of cold air, before it was replaced by the dip of his weight and the warmth that immediately followed when he let the sheets fall back over his body.

Then…it got awkward. Was Dean meant to curl up against Castiel's side? Were they meant to stay on their backs, staring at the ceiling, ramrod straight? Were they meant to turn to look at each other, or back to back? Should Dean turn and let Castiel spoon up behind him? Was Castiel the spooning type?

Castiel sighed, and rolled onto his side to face Dean. "You're thinking too loudly," he said, and Dean snorted.

"I'm a smart guy," he replied, teasingly. "Got a lot to think about."

Castiel hummed. "Would you like to know what I'm thinking about?" he asked.

Dean licked his lips and turned his head to one side. He couldn't see anything of Castiel's face, but he nodded. "Yeah," he said hoarsely.

"I'm thinking about how desperately I want to kiss you," Castiel said. Dean shivered, biting his lip again when he felt one of Castiel's hands lightly graze his jaw, thumb brushing his lower lip like he was trying to find it in the darkness.

Dean turned onto his side so that he was facing Castiel properly. "I want you to," he said quietly. "I just don't know if I can stop there."

"Oh?" Castiel's voice was quiet and fond, happy and adoring. Dean could imagine he was smiling. His thumb brushed along Dean's lower lip again, his other fingers curling around the Omega's jaw. "Do you trust me to stop?"

Dean nodded again, and said "Yes" for good measure, because there was no way in Hell he wanted Castiel to think that he didn't trust him, that he didn't _want_ him.

Castiel hummed, and shuffled in closer. His hand tightened a little on Dean's jaw, tugging him in, and Dean went, leaning the final little space until his nose met Castiel's. They hesitated, laughing quietly, and then Castiel tilted his head and slid his hand to the back of Dean's neck.

Their lips met, soft and warm. Dean felt a shiver run right from the back of his neck, down his spine to his toes. He made a quiet noise, reaching out and gently resting his hand on Castiel's shoulder, pulling himself closer across the bed.

Castiel let out a soft, wanting sound, his hand sliding up into Dean's hair as he opened his mouth and licked at Dean's lower lip, and the Omega's mouth fell open to allow his tongue inside. His whole body arched against the Alpha's until he could feel Castiel's chest against his, until one of Castiel's thighs threaded between his and they were as wrapped up in each other as they could be.

Castiel kissed with such gentleness, like Dean was the purest thing he had ever held. But his breathing came harshly around each kiss and it felt like his body couldn't be satisfied with how much they were touching. When they pulled apart, their breathing was labored and Dean's head felt like it was on fire.

Dean could see the shine of red in Castiel's eyes almost glowing in the darkness. He bit his lower lip, and it felt tender and sore. Castiel's hand moved to Dean's jaw again and brushed over his lower lip and the sensation sent more shivers down Dean's spine. His body was warm all over and he knew if they kept going he wouldn't be able to stop.

But… "Kiss me again?" he asked, raspy and soft.

Castiel smiled and leaned in for another kiss, this time moving so that his upper body was braced on his elbow and he could lean over Dean, cupping his jaw as the Omega rolled more onto his back and arched up against the Alpha.

Castiel pulled back and rested their foreheads together, his breathing heavy. "Tell me you still want me to stop," he whispered.

Dean swallowed hard enough that his throat clicked. "I won't want to mate here," he said, and felt Castiel nodding.

"I want to kiss you one more time," he said. "Then I'll stop."

Dean let out a soft laugh, grinning up at the man's silhouette. "Okay," he whispered, reaching up to thread his fingers through the mess of Castiel's hair. "One more."


	46. Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, you guys have been so amazingly patient (or at least willing to stick around) that I thought as a Christmas present I'd give y'all what you've been wanting so badly. I consider this fic finished after this, so I'm going to try and wrap it all up as best I can.
> 
> NSFW :D

Dean didn't think he'd ever been so happy to be home. Anticipation and excitement thrummed through his veins, digging under his skin like tiny hooks, tugging him onward. His hands trembled as he dissembled his weapons and checked them back into the inventory. He forced himself to focus through the debriefing, but it was all-too-easy to periodically lose himself in the way Castiel's hands moved when he talked, the way the Alpha urgently barked out orders for more surveillance, increased recruitment efforts, more eyes on anything that might be creeping towards them from the South. Sam's watch would double, he told Dean, and they'd make sure Crowley couldn't get to him in _any_ way for their refusal.

"I don’t believe Michael will get involved," Castiel told Dean. "He just wants Crowley gone, but he won't risk war with me to do it. Crowley will find someone else to do his dirty work."

Dean nodded. He was sure the Omega had his ways, but he trusted Castiel to do what needed to be done to keep him, the compound, and his family safe.

He went back to his suite because he wasn't sure what else to do. That morning, Castiel had been in the shower by the time Dean woke up, and he'd packed all their stuff except what Castiel would need when he came out of the shower. Then they'd gotten their shit and left – business-like, efficient. Just as always.

But it wasn't the same as always. Not anymore, not for Dean. But wasn't that what he wanted? He wanted to be Castiel's _equal_ , his partner. Just because they were mated didn't mean things like that had to change. Dean didn't _want_ them to change.

"What a mess," he muttered, throwing his duffle bag full of clothes onto his bed once he got back to his suite. He shrugged off his jacket and let it hang over one of the chairs in the main room, and then went back to his bedroom to separate what needed to be washed, put away what was still clean, and change his clothes to get the stink of the road off of him.

When he came back into the main room, Castiel was there. He froze at the entry between his room and the main room. "Hey," he said, trying to go for nonchalant and business-like. "Did we need to go to another de-brief?"

"Hm? Oh, no," Castiel said, smiling in a somewhat sheepish way. He shifted his weight and looked around the room as though unable to decide what to focus on. "I was just…wondering if you needed help."

"Help?" Dean asked, stepping down the little flight of stairs that separated his room from the rest of the suite. Castiel nodded. "Help with…?"

"Packing," Castiel finished for him. Dean blinked and looked around the room. "I assumed…I'm sorry. I assumed."

"Oh," Dean murmured, suddenly understanding. "I'm sorry. I didn't…"

"I understand," Castiel said, holding up a hand. "If you want to maintain your own space, I understand."

"No, I _don't_ want to," Dean said quickly, closing the distance between them abruptly and resting one hand on Castiel's chest. "I just thought that…you might want some space from me. But I don't – I'll pack. I'll pack right fuckin' now."

Castiel smiled, taking Dean's hand from his chest and raising it so that he could kiss the Omega's knuckles. "Then I'm here to help you, if you'd like."

"You'll distract me," Dean said, grinning. "Plus, there's like, embarrassing shit in there." He gestured to his room.

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "The sex toys I bought you aren't the most embarrassing things in there?" he said blandly, making Dean blush. He was still smiling, though, and tightened his fingers around Castiel's.

"Fine, whatever," he said. "But I don't feel like packing right now."

"What do you feel like doing?"

Dean bit his lower lip, looking down at Castiel's shoes, then back up to meet the Alpha's eyes. "I feel like kissing you," he said, and didn't miss how Castiel's gaze immediately dropped to his mouth. The Alpha's pupils grew big and dark in his eye, swallowing the blue out, and the Alpha licked his lips. "That okay?"

Castiel nodded, his free hand cupping the back of Dean's head and pulling him in for a kiss. He let their other hands drop and threaded his fingers through Dean's hair, now-free hand curling in one of Dean's belt loops to pull him closer. Dean fisted one of his hands in Castiel's hair, his other tightening in Castiel's clothes, one half of his jacket, guiding the Alpha close to his body so that he could feel Castiel's warmth.

Castiel let out a little growl, tilting his head to one side and Dean mirrored it, matched it, opening his mouth to Castiel's tongue. Warmth arced down his spine in a spiral, tightening around each part of bone until it settled at his hips and grew hot. It made him want nothing more than to arch and grind forward to escape the heat at his back.

Castiel's hand left his belt to settle at the small of Dean's back instead, like he could feel the Omega's heat there, too. He let out a shaky breath.

"Dean," he breathed. "You are making it very difficult to wait until we're in our bed."

Dean hummed, and leaned in for another kiss. Castiel didn't fight him, like he wanted Dean as close to his body as possible, until there was nothing between them but sweat and slick. "We're home," he murmured against the Alpha's mouth, "and we're safe." Castiel gave a little groan of pleasure when Dean's hand loosened in his hair and slid down to cup his nape, nails digging in. "I don't want to wait anymore."

Castiel abruptly pulled back, his blackened eyes searching Dean's face. His cheeks were pink, his mouth red and wet. He swallowed, licks his lips, and let go of Dean's head to tug on his hand instead. "Follow me," he ordered, and Dean smiled and obeyed.

Castiel let him up to the second floor where his bedroom was. Dean remembered it from when Castiel was injured from the shot in his leg, but it seemed like a whole new room now. The scent of Castiel was so heavy in the room, thick on his tongue and coating the heat in his spine with something metallic and strong.

Castiel turned and pushed Dean up against the door as soon as it was closed, claiming his mouth in a kiss that was both urgent and sweet, like every touch was being branded into his memory but he was endlessly thirsty for more. He swept his hands up Dean's flanks, gathering his shirt up and baring the skin of his stomach and sides. They were warm to the touch when Castiel's hands flattened across them.

Dean shivered, fisting his hands in Castiel's hair, and pushed them away from the door so that they went, stumbling across the open space, and landed sideways on the bed. Dean laughed and Castiel huffed an impatient yet happy sound in reply, catching Dean's mouth once more as they rolled to the middle of the bed and settled with Dean on top of Castiel, straddling his stomach.

Dean hummed, grabbing Castiel's hands and pinning them to the bed, and he rested their foreheads together and opened his eyes so that he could watch the Alpha watching him. "I've thought about this so many times," he murmured, no longer worried about admitting such a thing. Castiel licked his lips, eyes flashing red and Dean knew his own were showing gold, the itch behind them turning the green to gold and showing his Alpha how eager he was to mate. "Thought about what I want you to do to me, what I wanna do to you…"

"Tell me," Castiel rasped, his already-low voice even more hoarse and strained. Dean grinned and lifted himself up onto his knees, pleased when Castiel's body arched up to try and follow him and keep the weight and friction.

"Keep your hands where they are," Dean said, before he let them go. Castiel obeyed but his fingers curled and his knuckles went white and Dean knew he wouldn't be able to stay that way for long. That was okay, though – there would be time to learn each other properly, to take every inch by slow inch until they knew exactly what to do to each other to completely satisfy.

Dean pulled his shirt off and threw it to the ground next to the bed. Castiel's mouth fell open and Dean was quick to take advantage, leaning down and stealing a breathless kiss. He felt the Alpha's hands reach up and rub down his back before Castiel remembered he was supposed to keep them still.

"Easy," he murmured against Castiel's mouth, leaning up again and grinning down at the flustered Alpha.

Castiel rolled his eyes, but his hands landed unapologetically on Dean's hips, squeezing. "I hardly think you can blame me," he said. Then Dean let out a little yelp when Castiel abruptly grabbed and rolled them, pinning Dean down onto his back and smiling in smug victory. Dean subsided with a huff, rolling his eyes. Castiel hummed, leaning in and kissing soft and warm along Dean's jaw, then down his neck. Dean shivered, closing his eyes, and tilted his head to one side to allow Castiel room to kiss and nip at the sensitive skin there. How often had he done this for this Alpha and only imagined what would happen if Castiel was a little more of a brute, a little more aggressive, and just bitten Dean the first time he'd done it to show his dominance?

As though sensing his thoughts, Castiel bared his teeth and let them scrape across Dean's throat. The action caused goose bumps to rise all down Dean's arms and legs and a shiver ran up his spine and settled somewhere behind his collarbones. He sucked in a choked breath, gripping his fingers tight in Castiel's clothing as the Alpha let out a pleased little huff and did it again.

"Cas," Dean growled, succumbing when Castiel lifted his head to kiss him again. Heat was pooling in his stomach now, his muscles tightening up and getting warm. He pushed at Castiel's coat, glad that the Alpha had chosen to dress casually today and was only wearing jeans and a t-shirt like Dean had been before removing his shirt. Dean dug his nails into the small of Castiel's back and was rewarded with a slow grind between his legs, and he gasped against Castiel's mouth when he felt how hard the Alpha was against him. "Fuck, man, you're killin' me here."

"You're not the only one who's thought about this," Castiel said in reply, voice low and wrecked. His hands were hot, branding Dean's bare skin wherever they could reach. "How often I imagined you, just like this, bare and open for me."

Dean swallowed, his mouth dry at the mental image of Castiel fucking into his own hand, imagining it was Dean. He thought of Castiel squeezing his knot as tight as he could, other hand gripping the pillow he would bite to keep his cries silent. Or imagining it was an Omega he was biting, _marking_ with his teeth as well as his come.

Castiel let out a wounded, broken sound against Dean's jaw, and then caught his mouth again. One of his hands slid up to Dean's throat and squeezed gently. "Your scent is overwhelming," he said, like he'd been given a gift from a long-dead God.

Dean sucked in a breath, trying to see if he could smell himself like Castiel could. The scent of an Omega's slick, or an in-Heat one, was meant to trigger something in Alphas that awakened their imperative to mate. Dean knew he'd smelled like this around Castiel before. Maybe the Alpha had been more affected those times than he had ever wanted Dean to know.

" _Dean_." The sound of his name, wrecked from Castiel's mouth, was going to become one of Dean's favorite things to hear in the world, he was sure. Abruptly the Alpha pulled back, shaking his head as though to clear it, and braced his hands on Dean's hips. "Roll over."

"No," Dean argued, sitting up so that Castiel couldn't force him. The Alpha made no move to, and blinked at Dean in confusion. "I want to look at you. And you're gonna fuckin' look at me when you mate me."

Castiel nodded, biting his lower lip. "It'll be more painful for you like this," he said, but he wasn't fighting Dean on it. "My knot."

"I don't care," Dean said, and of that fact he was absolutely certain. Castiel must have sensed this, because he nodded, his eyes gentle and dark, and leaned in for another kiss. Dean wrapped his fingers in Castiel's hair again and allowed the Alpha to push him back down onto the bed. They only pulled away once more to shed the rest of their clothes, throwing them in haphazard arcs away from the bed. Dean laughed when one of the legs of his jeans got caught on his foot, and removing his shirt made Castiel's hair even more wild and ridiculous-looking.

Dean spread his legs to allow Castiel between them, groaning softly when Castiel's erection rubbed against his. He had started to get slick since Castiel first kissed him, but now it coated his thighs and made the room stink with him. Castiel's eyes were glowing that dull Alpha red around the black of his iris.

Dean arched up against him, raking his nails down Castiel's chest and hips as he urged the Alpha to grind against him. They kissed again, Castiel's hands wrapping around the back of Dean's neck and through his hair, his weight on his elbows so that it seemed like no part of him wasn't touching Dean.

"Dean," Castiel gasped, pulling back just enough to speak. Dean tilted his head and licked up the Alpha's neck, biting lightly at the wet spot until Castiel shuddered. "Dean – can I?"

"Yeah," Dean whispered, and reached down so that he could gather some of his slick on his fingers. He sank one inside of him, testing the stretch and the wetness there. Castiel shuddered like he could feel it around his cock already, and Dean felt the head of his cock twitch against their stomachs. Castiel got wet at the head and it was already smearing around the mess on Dean's stomach, marking him there too.

He pulled his fingers out and smeared them on Castiel's hip, grinning when the Alpha huffed a soft protest. He threaded his fingers through Castiel's hair and kissed him again. Castiel reared up, thighs braced underneath Dean's until Dean pulled them up, and Castiel's cock slid through the slick and sweat easily. Catching, teasing, Dean sucked in a breath and let out a little whine when the head of Castiel's cock finally caught and started to sink in.

Castiel let out a shudder, flattening himself over Dean's body again and trapping the air there. Dean heaved in a breath, raking his nails across Castiel's back and up through his hair.

"Let me in, Dean," Castiel whispered roughly, right against his neck. Dean shivered, chills and heat running down his spine. The last time he'd fucked an Alpha he'd been in the middle of his Heat and it had been far from a pleasant experience, and now, with Castiel, it almost felt like too much but he'd die if it fucking stopped.

Castiel groaned, sinking in a little more as Dean forced his body to relax. "That's it," Castiel praised, kissing Dean's neck, his jaw, just under his ear, catching his mouth and granting him a deep, long kiss as he started to sink in a little more. Dean was trembling underneath him. "Oh, _God_ , Dean…"

Dean dug his nails into Castiel's back, baring his teeth and grinding his body as best he could against Castiel's weight. "Keep goin', Cas," he ordered roughly. The Alpha obeyed him, until his hips pressed flat against the back of Dean's thighs, until there was nowhere farther for him to go. " _Fuck_."

"Are you alright?" Castiel murmured, leaning back so that he could see Dean's face.

Dean rolled his eyes and huffed a sheepish laugh. "Y'ain't _that_ big, Cas. I can take it."

Castiel smiled, and leaned down to kiss Dean again. "I didn't mean that," he said quietly. "You're shaking."

"Yeah," Dean replied. He didn't offer any explanation. "I'm fine, promise." Castiel nodded, knowing better than to argue with Dean by now about his emotional stability. Dean raked a hand through Castiel's unruly hair and clenched around the Alpha's cock, tight enough to yank a startled noise from somewhere in Castiel's chest. "I want you to move, now."

Castiel hummed, and pulled back with his hips, before fucking back in. The thrusts were shallow and slow, like he was slowly carving out a space for himself inside Dean's body and was determined to take his time.

It felt incredible. Dean was so wet that Castiel could fuck him easily, and it felt so good having the Alpha over him, his senses filled with the scent and sound of his mate, having Castiel's heat blanketing him and tasting his sweat whenever he licked and nipped at Castiel's neck. He wanted to _mark_ the Alpha, brand him with a bite or mark that others would see just as easily as they'd see the mating scar that would inevitably come on Dean's neck.

Castiel gasped, his hands tightening on Dean's body when Dean scraped his teeth along Castiel's neck. He felt the Alpha shudder, fucking in with particular roughness when he did it. "Dean," he growled, "don't."

Dean swallowed, and let out a soft whine. "Sorry," he said. Most Alphas didn't like that, he knew.

Castiel tilted his head and nipped at Dean's ear, raking his nails down Dean's flanks until the Omega whined and arched up against him. "I want you to, when I'm knotted in you," he said roughly. His rhythm had slowed but he fucked in again, and Dean gasped when he felt the head of Castiel's cock rubbing against that spot inside of him that the toys always pressed against so _nicely_. It felt amazing with Castiel doing it, too, and Dean started shaking for an entirely different reason. "I want you to bite me, Dean. But it'll be over far too soon if you do it now."

Dean licked his lips and tilted his head so that he could bite Castiel's jaw. "Givin' away your weaknesses?" he teased, dragging his hands down Castiel's sweaty back until he reached the Alpha's ass. He grabbed and pulled, rolling his hips up at the same time to try and force Castiel to keep rutting against him, rubbing against that spot inside that felt so Goddamn good. "That's not very – ah, _shit_ – strategic of you."

Castiel chuckled. "Do you consider this a battle, Dean?" He abruptly reared back, shoving his hands behind Dean's knees and forcing him to fold even more, before he fucked into Dean's ass roughly, wrenching a harsh groan of pleasure from the Omega pinned below him. Dean gasped, staring up at his Alpha, the red in his eyes and on his neck from Dean's mouth, the flush of lust coloring his chest and his face. Castiel fucked in again and Dean let out another broken sound, reaching down and wrapping a hand around his leaking, slick-wet cock.

He couldn't think of anything smart to say in reply, and it seemed like Castiel was similarly out of words. The Alpha fucked him brutally, hands sliding down to Dean's thighs and gripping tight enough that he was sure there'd be bruises. The angle made sure his cock was fucking Dean almost perfectly every damn time and Dean knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

"Cas," he gasped, voice breathy and high. Castiel lowered his eyes from Dean's face to his neck and Dean turned his head to one side, baring his throat out of instinct.

Castiel let go and fell over him with a snarl, wrapping one hand around the side of Dean's neck and baring his teeth against the other. He fucked in harshly enough that the bed was giving protesting squeaks, and Dean hissed when his cock hit _just right_ , and Dean twisted his hand along the head of his cock.

He came with a shudder, clinging to Castiel and raking his nails up the Alpha's back with his free hand. He clenched down tightly around the Alpha's cock, tight enough that Castiel let out a wounded sound and abruptly stopped thrusting, like Dean was too tight to keep fucking. Then, a split second after the first wave of relief and pleasure, he opened his mouth and sank his teeth into the side of Dean's neck.

Dean howled, digging his nails in and working his come-sticky hand free from being mashed between their bodies so that he could grip Castiel's hair, holding him there as the Alpha placed his mating mark. His skin felt like it was on fire, the hooks in his veins and his mouth reaching out and threading through Castiel's as though they were being sewn together. It was at once completely unexpected and totally familiar, as though they had been doing this all their lives.

When Castiel pulled away his teeth were red and Dean surged up against him, claiming his mouth, and wrapped his legs around Castiel's waist. "Knot me," he growled, enough order in him to make him sound almost Alpha, and Castiel shivered and pressed Dean back onto the bed.

Dean found Castiel's neck and opened his mouth wide, sucking a huge dark mark on the exposed skin as the Alpha fucked him. Castiel let out a choked, ragged sound, his rhythm stuttering, hips pressed tight against Dean's ass once, twice, like he was scratching an itch but couldn't quite reach.

Dean sighed, closing his eyes when he felt Castiel's knot starting to grow. It twinged in this position, his body unable to stretch just right in the way he could in the classic mounting position, but like this he could feel the tremble in Castiel's thighs, feel the hitch in his breath against his neck.

Castiel went lax with a small sigh once his knot was stuck, petting through Dean's hair and kissing him breathlessly as he started to come. Dean could only feel it as an abstract warmth, but he knew when Castiel's knot went down it could leak out of him like his slick and that thought sent another shaft of heat through his body.

Castiel kissed him one last time, before he cupped Dean's face and rested their foreheads together. His eyes were closed, face more relaxed and as young-looking as Dean had ever seen him.

They didn't say anything. Everything Dean could think of to say sounded either way too sappy, or was an attempt at humor and would cheapen the mood. Instead he hummed and nuzzled against his Alpha's neck, running his palms soothingly up the lines his nails had left, through Castiel's hair, back down his flanks as the Alpha blanketed him and they waited out his knot.

Castiel's knot lasted for a few moments longer, and then they separated with a huff and a grimace at the mess. Come started to leak out of Dean almost immediately and he sat up, wincing at the soreness in his body and the wet feeling between his legs. Castiel moved so he was kneeling behind Dean and nuzzled at his neck, and let out a pleased hum when Dean tilted his head to let him kiss and nuzzle over his mark.

Dean couldn't help grinning. He felt giddy, high on relief and satisfaction. Then Castiel's phone rang.

Dean groaned, rolling onto his back when Castiel left the bed. "Ignore it," he demanded.

"It's Michael," Castiel said, and Dean sat up so that he could see as Castiel answered the phone. "Yes? Yes, we made it back safely, thank you. What?"

His eyes flashed to Dean, then away. He didn't look upset, exactly. Then a smile spread over his face – it was smug and satisfied, like he'd just eaten a particularly good meal or seen someone he hated get their ass handed to them. "I see. Thank you for informing me. Goodbye."

He hung up and Dean made an impatient noise. Castiel smiled at him and climbed back into bed. "Michael called to inform me that he's decided to take on Crowley's interests himself," he said, leaning in and pulling Dean in for a kiss. "He's going to lend him the men he needs for his start-up and then when the Omega's established, leave him to it."

Dean blinked, eyebrows raised. "Just like that?" he asked.

"He didn't take kindly to Crowley implying that there would be any threat made to you, and by extension, me," Castiel said with a nod. "Michael may be a lot of things, but he's my brother, and he holds great affection for me. I trust that he can handle Crowley well enough."

Dean grinned. "If not, we will."

Castiel smiled at him, and reached out to gently rest his hand against the unbitten side of Dean's neck. "Yes," he said, as solemn and joyous as a wedding vow. He rested their foreheads together and kissed Dean one more time. "We will."


End file.
